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PAUL’S PARAGON 


BY THE SAME AUTHOR 


THE SQUARE PEG 
PAULINE 
THE PERJURER 
VITTORIA VICTRIX 
NOT GUILTY 


LONDON 

CONSTABLE AND COMPANY LTD 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


V'^\V \Avv\ 

W. E. NORRIS 

t* 


NEW YORK 
BRENTANO’S 
1912 


m 

a 


Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, 

BRUNSWICK STREET, STAMFORD STREET, S.E., 
AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK, 

Chavtes A. 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. 

I THE DISTURBED RECLUSE . 

II DISMISSED LIONS 

III GUY GETS INTO THE SADDLE 

IV MRS. BALDWIN AND MR. VIGORS 
V INNOCENT FELLOW-SUFFERERS . 

VI A VISIT OF INTRODUCTION . 

VII THE ADULTS' .... 

VIII “IN LOCO parentis” 

IX COMEDY ON AND OFF THE STAGE 
X THE DUNRIDGE LINKS 
XI THE SELF-INVITED GUEST . 

XII VAIN VOYAGES .... 

XIII CAPTAIN BARRAN FINDS HIS TONGUE 

XIV REVELATIONS .... 

XV MR. HILLIAR OF BUENOS AYRES 

XVI THE AMIABLE MARPLOT 
XVII A LOOPHOLE .... 
XVIII IMAGINATION AND ENERGY. 


PAGE 

1 

13 

25 

36 

50 

64 

74 

88 

99 

111 

124 

138 

151 

164 

176 

189 

201 

215 


V 


vi 

CONTENTS 


CHAP. 


PAGE ' 

XIX 

THE DAEK HORIZON .... 

. 226 

XX 

MR. HILLIAR IN HIS ELEMENT. 

. 237. 

XXI 

OLD SCORES 

. 251 

XXII 

SAGACIOUS WATTIE .... 

. 265 

XXIII 

AUDREY THROWS UP THE SPONGE . 

. 276 

XXIV 

THE IRONY OF COINCIDENCE . 

. 291 

XXV 

THE DILEMMA 

. 300 

XXVI 

THE SOLUTION 

. 313 

XXVII 

WATTIE TAKES CHARGE . 

. 325 

XXVIII 

KILL OR CURE ..... 

. 336 

XXIX 

PRISCA VENUS ..... 

. 351 

XXX 

FULFILMENTS 

. 363 



PAUL’S PARAGON 


CHAPTER I 

THE DISTURBED RECLUSE 

“ Well, Mr. Lequesne,” said the rosy-faced, thick- 
set little parson, as he got up and knocked out the 
ashes from his pipe with an air of finality, “ I dare- 
say you have the best of the argument. You are a 
very clever, well-read man, and no doubt you are 
more skilled in dialectics than I can pretend to be. 
For all that, it doesn’t follow that you are right or 
that I am wrong. You may yet live to see for yourself 
the results of banishing religious teaching from our 
schools.” 

“ But, my dear Mr. Hale,” mildly protested the 
tall, gaunt man whom he addressed, “ I am dead 
against secular education. I quite recognise that 
religion — any religion — is an immense support to 
morality, though I am unable to agree with you in 
thinking that there can be no morality without 
religion.” 

“ There never has been any,” the other boldly 
affirmed. 

“ I should have thought that cases might be cited ; 
but we won’t argue the point. Indeed, I didn’t know 

B 


2 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


that we had been arguing. I only ventured to state 
some of my personal views because you demanded 
them.” 

The Rector of the parish gave a dissatisfied grunt. 
Prompted by sympathy, compassion and a sense of 
duty, he had resolved to speak a few pastoral words 
to this queer parishioner of his, who, while contribut- 
ing liberally to local charities, never came to church, 
and the occasion of having been invited to lunch at 
Stone Hall for the first time in two years had seemed 
to be one which ought not to be neglected ; yet during 
a colloquy which had lasted more than an hour he 
had not contrived to discharge what he conceived to 
be his real mission. Now, at the last moment, he 
made an effort to do so — clumsily enough. 

“ Surely, Mr. Lequesne,” said he, “ you must feel 
that even if we could dispense with the dogmas of 
Christianity, we could not make ourselves independent 
of its vast consolations. Surely you, if anybody, 
must sometimes long for the certainty that this 
earthly life is not all, and that when it is over, we 
shall be reunited to those whom we have loved 
here ! ” 

It was with a suggestion of polite chilliness in his 
voice that Paul Lequesne replied: “Quite so; and 
if the wish to believe in a thing implied the power to 
believe in it, that would be very nice indeed. With 
some people, I suppose, it does. One congratulates 
and envies them. Are we in for another spell of bad 
weather, do you think ? ” 

Mr. Hale accepted the invited rebuff and took him- 
self off. Presently Paul Lequesne, standing in the 


THE DISTURBED RECLUSE 


3 


embrasure of the window which commanded a pros- 
pect of rugged coast-line, of grey-green seas sweeping 
into a wide bay and of bare inland country, dim with 
trailing mists, saw his visitor’s black figure plodding 
down the hill towards the village and sighed while he 
smiled. He was afraid he had been rather rude, and 
he was sorry; but it had been essential to snuff out 
the kindly-meaning cleric before he perpetrated further 
indiscretions. 

Not that good Mr. Hale signified. For two years 
now Paul Lequesne had lived and thought — had tried 
to live and think — as though for him nothing would 
ever signify again. But that is really an impossible 
attitude for a man of little over thirty and in perfect 
bodily health to maintain. He knew it was impossible. 
What he less and less liked to contemplate, yet was 
more and more driven by sheer stress of necessity to 
contemplate, was the question of alternatives. On 
this bleak afternoon of late spring they obtruded 
themselves with special insistence, those unwelcome 
alternatives, because, as sometimes happened, his 
brain refused the literary labour which was his first 
and chief standby, while the wild-fowl shooting which 
was his second had come to an end. In plain words 
(though he did not employ them mentally), he was 
bored. 

For the first thirty years of his life Paul Lequesne 
had been amongst the fortunate few who are never 
bored. He had always had plenty to do and had 
always been able to do the very things that pleased 
him most. Comfortably off, something of a sports- 
man, a good deal of a student and a scholar, he had 

B 2 


4 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


found ample work in writing essays, historical studies 
and occasional verses, without needing to trouble 
about whether these brought him adequate pecuniary 
reward or not, while games, mountain-climbing, fish- 
ing and shooting had afforded him relaxation to his 
heart’s content. At the age of twenty-six he had 
made the happiest of marriages, and if the fact that 
it had proved childless ought to be accounted as some 
set-off to its otherwise perfect felicity, neither he nor 
his charming and accomplished wife had taken that 
view. They had been so mutually devoted, they had 
so entirely sufficed one another, that the advent of 
squalling babies might well have seemed to them a 
doubtful boon. Neither too rich nor too poor, they 
had led exactly the life that they would have chosen 
to lead and had enjoyed every day of it. Paul’s 
increasing celebrity as a writer had brought him 
numberless friends and acquaintances, whom he had 
delighted to entertain in Chester Square, where he 
dwelt ; Mrs. Lequesne had earned well-merited repu- 
tation as a hostess ; they had visited much in country 
houses, had travelled abroad when they felt inclined 
to travel, and had achieved, in short, the social ideal 
of being at once in the heart of things, yet quite inde- 
pendent. No two people in the world could have been 
more contented with their lot than they. Then, as 
by some swift shock of earthquake or lightning-stroke 
out of a clear sky, the entire fabric of Paul Lequesne’s 
existence had been shattered. A neglected chill, an 
access of fever, double pneumonia and death — the 
whole tragedy was but an affair of days. Scarcely 
had the unhappy man been made to understand that 


THE DISTURBED RECLUSE 


5 


his wife was dangerously ill before she was gone. She 
was gone, and with her went — literally everything ! 

Such, at all events, was his impression of the ruin 
that had come upon him. He obeyed the wounded 
animal’s instinct to crawl away and hide himself. 
The one thing that he could by no means endure, the 
one thing that had still power to give him additional 
pain, was condolence. And, as it chanced, a sanc- 
tuary lay ready to his hand. Stone Hall, grey and grim 
upon a jutting foreland of the Northumbrian coast, 
had recently and unexpectedly passed into his posses- 
sion by inheritance. He had not dreamt of inhabiting 
the place, nor had he succeeded in discovering a tenant 
for it ; so in his misery its total seclusion seemed to 
beckon to him. Thither, accordingly, he betook him- 
self to face, all alone, the future which must needs 
be faced, and his friends, of course, said it was the 
very worst thing he could do. However, they did 
not say so to him, because they were not given the 
opportunity, and it may be that they were mistaken. 
On the other hand, it is certain that he was mistaken 
if he imagined that the remainder of his days could 
be spent in unbroken solitude. Like many other 
persons of a reserved habit, he was more dependent 
upon human companionship than he was aware of 
being. By nature affectionate and unselfish, neither 
study nor sport was likely to meet his permanent 
needs. Moreover, he was denied that species of solace 
so glibly offered by Mr. Hale and so eagerly accepted 
by thousands of mourners. 

“ Even if these pious folks knew what they per- 
suade themselves that they know,” he mused, “ I 


6 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


shouldn’t want to share their convictions. Immor- 
tality at the expense of identity is only another name 
for extinction, and, shuffle and wriggle as they will, 
they are forced to admit that identity — what one calls 
one’s self — must cease when the breath goes out of 
one’s body. Something in us may survive death; 
but I can’t find in me the slightest desire to be some- 
thing or somebody else through all eternity. It’s 
the past that I cry for and can never have again, it 
isn’t a glorified future.” 

The tall, lean, muscular man, who had contracted 
a slight habitual stoop, and who looked rather more 
than his age, looked also as if he might be destined to 
live for a great many years yet. He had a well- 
shaped head and a long, narrow face, ending in a 
pointed chin, the outline of which was concealed by a 
short beard. This and his close-cut hair were of a 
light, indeterminate brown colour. His grey eyes, 
very clear and keen, were sunk beneath somewhat 
overhanging brows ; his lower lip protruded a little ; 
distinct lines ran from his nostrils to the corners of 
his mouth. His general aspect gave an impression 
of sternness and melancholy, though there were rare 
moments when a smile transfigured his whole counte- 
nance. He was perfectly sound, he was in hard con- 
dition, and he came of a long-lived stock. These 
things had to be taken into account, and he took them 
into account. He told himself, as he had often told 
himself before, that what had happened was not 
only Maud’s death but his own. He might not want 
to be somebody else, but already and inevitably he 
was somebody else, and his life must by hook or 


THE DISTURBED RECLUSE 


7 


by crook be made to adjust itself to the existing 
conditions. 

Thus far he had scarcely essayed such adjustment. 
His one, partially successful, aim had been to tire 
himself out in mind and body, and so get through the 
days without counting them. Obligatory visits to 
London on matters of business had caused periodical, 
always exquisitely painful, interruptions in this self- 
imposed sentence of hard labour; for, with a sort of 
perverse determination to drain the cup of bitterness 
to its dregs, he ehose to retain the Chester Square 
house, which, by his orders, remained precisely as he 
had left it on the morrow of his wife’s funeral. When 
in London, he saw none of his old friends, with the 
single exception of Mrs. Baldwin, and perhaps he 
would not have seen her if she had not made such a 
point of it. He liked Lilian Baldwin pretty well, 
though it is improbable that he would have become 
intimate with her, had she not been intimate with 
Maud in former days and had she not claimed sym- 
pathy on the ground of a bereavement similar to and 
almost simultaneous with his own. A kindly, cheer- 
ful woman, who had entirely recovered from the loss 
of the late learned Professor Baldwin (her senior by 
more than a score of years), and who would fain have 
persuaded Paul to bow, as she had bowed, to the 
decree of Heaven. Somehow, he did not mind her 
talking to him about Maud — did not even very much 
mind her broad hints that he would do well to seek a 
substitute for poor, dear Maud, until it dawned upon 
him all of a sudden that she herself might not be 
unwilling to be so selected. That, to be sure, gave 


8 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


him a fine fright and sent him back to Northumber- 
land like an arrow from a bow. However, he did not 
break off all relations with the too friendly widow. 
She was now in Italy, whence she wrote him long 
letters, to which he sometimes replied. It was at this 
moment in his mind to scribble a few lines to her. 
She was a woman of the world, and a sensible one, as 
women go, he thought : possibly she might be able 
to suggest something. For something, clearly, would 
have to be done ere long ; some fresh departure would 
have to be undertaken, however shrinkingly and 
reluctantly. To dwell at Stone Hall, seeing nobody 
and repelling the advances of the few neighbours, had 
been a practicable line of conduct for a couple of 
years; permanently practicable he perceived that it 
could not be. 

Paul, thus constrained to part with the irretrievable 
past, thus unhappily debarred from contemplating 
futurity with the assured, fervent gaze of his Cilician 
namesake, stood at the window and absently surveyed 
material objects. Beneath him the great curve of 
the bay, blurred by drifting fog, swept away towards 
Dunridge — little, invisible Dunridge, deserted at this 
season of the year, but frequented during the summer 
months by sparse visitors, some of whom would occa- 
sionally pick their way across the sands to the some- 
what inaccessible promontory on which Stone Hall 
was planted. Anybody who happened to be in a hurry 
to reach Stone Hall from Dunridge might avoid a 
circuit of several miles by driving over the sands at 
low water and fording the stream below the house; 
but this was so unusual an occurrence that Paul 


THE DISTURBED RECLUSE 


9 


started in surprise when he descried a gig apparently 
making for the only destination to which any vehicle, 
coming from that direction, could be bound. He 
soon brought a pair of field-glasses to bear upon it 
and discovered that it was being driven by a black- 
bearded man, unknown to him, at whose side a small 
boy was seated. 

“ What the deuce can the fellow want here ! ” he 
muttered, with the annoyance of a recluse under 
menace of intrusion. “ Well, he won’t get here, 
whoever he may be ; I can tell him that much ! The 
ford would be barely manageable today even by a 
native who knew how to take it, and he looks like a 
stranger.” 

No doubt it was because he was a stranger that the 
wayfarer drove steadily on. Paul, watching him as 
he drew nearer, saw him point to the stream with his 
whip, say something to the boy and make straight 
for the crossing-place whence it became a duty, in 
common humanity, to warn him off. For the brook, 
swollen by recent rains, was a good deal more danger- 
ous than it might appear to the uninitiated. There 
was a possibility, if a doubtful one, of traversing it in 
safety by wheeling sharply to the right immediately 
after leaving the track which led to its brink; but 
this was just what an uninitiated person was pretty 
sure not to do, and in the middle was a hole ten or 
twelve feet deep. Paul, running down the hill, was 
joined by his groom, who had seen from the stable- 
yard what was not unlikely to occur, and who said : 

“ Dunridge Arms gig, sir. One o’ them silly trip- 
pers who thought it was a nice afternoon for a drive 


10 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


by the sea, I s’pose. Hebblethwaite didn’t ought to 
allow such folks to go out by theirselves. Serve him 
right if he was to lose his horse and trap ! ” 

“ Oh, he won’t do that,” answered Paul ; ‘‘ the horse 
won’t face it. You may as well give the man a shout 
though, Perkins.” 

Perkins shouted, and so did Paul. Also, as had 
been anticipated, the shaggy cob stopped short at the 
water’s edge and flung up his head. But the stranger, 
misinterpreting, as it seemed, the cries and signals 
addressed to him, stood up and lashed the wiser 
animal, who responded by throwing himself into his 
collar and breasting the flood. Then, with a dramatic 
abruptness which would have been ludicrous if it had 
not been a life and death matter, came the foreseen 
catastrophe. For a moment the cart and its occu- 
pants were completely submerged ; but presently the 
struggling horse and his driver reappeared upon the 
surface, and Perkins darted off down stream to inter- 
cept them at a point where the bank made an elbow, 
against which, with luck, the current might carry 
them. Paul waited for the boy, who was swimming 
like a fish, and who, as he scrambled ashore, disre- 
garded alike proffered assistance and praises of his 
pluck. 

“ I’m all right,” he gasped, “ but the horse — look 
at him ! — he’ll be drowned ! ” 

Paul looked, whipped a knife out of his pocket and 
jumped into the water. Perkins had already hauled 
the man out ; but the horse, entangled by harness and 
broken shafts, was undoubtedly in imminent danger 
of perishing. To cut him loose, seize him by the 


THE DISTURBED RECLUSE 11 


bridle and rescue him was not the easiest job in the 
world, nor would it have been accomplished by any- 
body but a powerful man, armed with a knife which 
was fortunately sharp. Accomplished, however, it 
was, under the approving eye of the juvenile spectator, 
who clapped his hands and called out : 

“ Well done, sir ! ” 

“ Same to you,” answered Paul gravely, “ Now, 
my little man, be off up to the house as fast as you can 
lay legs, ring the bell and ask for Mrs. Williams, the 
housekeeper. She’ll have you in blankets before you 
know where you are. I’ll see to your father.” 

The boy shook himself like a dog and laughed. 

“ Bless you, that isn’t father ! ” said he. “ Father’s 
dead. That’s Mr. Eastwood. I told him it was too 
deep — you can always see when the water’s dark and 
smooth like that in the middle — but he wouldn’t 
listen. Now he’ll get one of his bad colds for certain. 
Are you Mr. Lequesne ? We were coming to see you.” 

“Yes, I am Mr. Lequesne,” Paul replied; “but 
do as I tell you or there will be two colds, instead of 
one.” 

The boy, a sturdy, bright-eyed little fellow, who 
might be eight or nine years of age, laughed again, 
glanced at the speaker, seemed to recognise in him a 
person who had better be obeyed, and trotted away 
up the hill without another word. 

The black-bearded man, whom Paul now ap- 
proached, looked scarcely in a condition to follow 
suit. Supported by Perkins, he had staggered to his 
feet; but he was shivering violently and his teeth 
chattered while he jerked out incoherent apologies. 


12 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ Mr. Lequesne — I am so sorry and so ashamed ! 
I was about to call at your house, for reasons which 
I will explain presently. . . . They told me at Dun- 
ridge that it was quite safe to take the short cut across 
the sands. ... I had no idea — no intention ...” 

“ I am sure you hadn’t,” interrupted Paul, smiling. 
“ Please don’t distress yourself. Come along, if you 
can walk, and let us get you into a warm bed.” 

The contrite stranger protested feebly; but of 
course he could not refuse the hospitality of which 
he stood in such obvious need ; and thus it came to 
pass that, half an hour later, Perkins had to ride off 
in quest of the doctor. 


CHAPTER II 


DISMISSED LIONS 

If one of the dripping strangers had to own himself 
fit for nothing but bed and medical treatment, the 
other was in no such forlorn case. When, after 
despatching Perkins for the doctor and changing his 
own drenched garments, the invaded hermit entered 
the library which was the one sitting-room of which 
he made use, he found his arm-chair tenanted by a 
small, ruddy-faced person who was enveloped in what 
appeared to be one of the housekeeper’s flannel 
dressing-gowns, and who was casting affectionate 
glances at the prepared tea-table. 

“ Hullo ! ” said Paul. 

“ Hullo ! ” returned the youngster, with a gurgling, 
infectious sort of laugh. “ How’s Mr. Eastwood ? ” 
“ Not very well, I am afraid. Let me cut you 
some cake. You, at any rate, are none the worse 
for your ducking, I am glad to see.” 

“ Oh, I’m as right as rain, thanks. The water 
was jolly cold, though, wasn’t it ? ” 

“ Yes, I found it so. By the way, could you tell 
me who Mr. Eastwood is ? ” 

The boy swallowed a mouthful of cake and looked 
reflective. “ Oh, well — I don’t know that he’s any- 
thing except Mr. Eastwood.” Then, as if recognising 
13 


14 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


that this might fall short of giving full satisfaction 
to legitimate curiosity, he proceeded : “I live with 
him and Mrs. Eastwood. My name’s Guy Hilliar, 
and I think I’m a sort of cousin of yours. That’s 
why we came down here from London to see 
you.” 

Vague memories of a distant relative who had 
married a man called Hilliar recurred to Paul’s mind, 
together with an impression that the man called 
Hilliar had not turned out very satisfactorily. 
Doubtless this child was an orphan, on whose behalf 
some appeal was in contemplation. Well, if that 
was all ! ... . Appeals, more or less warranted, 
reached Paul by almost every post, and as his very 
inexpensive tastes left him always with a considerable 
balance at his bankers’, he seldom turned a deaf ear 
to them. Meanwhile, he refrained from putting 
further questions, and it may have been a result of 
this delicacy on his part that the boy, who evidently 
was not afflicted with shyness, grew disjointedly 
communicative. From his obiter dicta it could be 
gathered that he had been born and bred abroad, 
that his mother, like his father, was dead, and that 
the Eastwood family resided at Arcachon. 

“ That’s where you learnt to swim, I suppose,” 
Paul suggested. 

The boy nodded, but presently corrected himself. 
“ No, I don’t think so ; I can’t remember. I believe 
I’ve always known how to swim. I can ride too,” 
he added, with a pleased grin. “ Not well, you 
know, because I haven’t been properly taught; but 
I can stick on all right. That’s because I’m not in a 


DISMISSED LIONS 


15 


funk, like Tom and Nellie and the others. I haven’t 
ever been in a funk — yet.” 

He made this announcement in no boastful tone, 
but rather as one who mentions a personal and 
possibly interesting peculiarity. It had and has, at 
all events, the merit of veracity ; for to this day Guy 
Hilliar remains one of those rare and enviable mortals 
who are unacquainted with the sensation of physical 
fear. To the rest of us such persons are almost 
always attractive, and from the first Paul Lequesne 
felt strongly drawn towards his juvenile kinsman. 
The latter had already shown himself a plucky and 
merry little chap ; in the sequel he was to prove that 
he possessed other claims upon the affection which, 
to be sure, has ever been ungrudgingly accorded to 
him by friends and companions of both sexes. But 
for the moment his equipment of courage and high 
spirits was enough, and in the course of half an hour 
he had achieved more than anybody else had done 
for two years, in that he had made Paul laugh 
repeatedly. 

The entrance of the local practitioner, who had 
been upstairs and who wished to make his report, 
put an end to an amusing conversation, and what the 
doctor had to say in an undertone was not altogether 
amusing. 

“ I’m afraid your friend must stay where he is for 
a few days to come, Mr. Lequesne. I hope he may 
shake off the effects of the severe shock and chill that 
he has had ; but a man in his condition ! . . . . You 
know, I daresay, that his lungs are anything but 
sound. You didn’t know ? Well, so it is, and the 


16 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


disease is evidently of long standing. I have given 
directions to Mrs. Williams and I’ll look in again 
tomorrow morning ; for the present there’s very 
little to be done beyond keeping him quiet and warm. 
Oh, yes, go up and see him by all means; he seems 
very anxious to see you. Don’t let him talk too 
much, that’s all, and the sooner he can get off to 
sleep the better.” 

It is, to say the least of it, rather inconsiderate 
behaviour on the part of a total stranger, whose 
business with you might apparently have been 
transacted just as well by letter as in person, to plunge 
into an ice-cold stream at your door and get himself 
laid up under your roof with threatened congestion 
of the lungs ; but Paul Lequesne was a patient man. 
His patience was tried; for Mr. Eastwood, sitting up 
in bed, was so verbosely penitent that it took a long 
time to bring him to the point. The point (put much 
more succinctly than he put it) was that he wanted 
Mr. Lequesne’s kind advice as to what was to be done 
with Guy Hilliar, and the reason why he stood in sore 
need of advice with regard to that momentous ques- 
tion was that the boy was upon his hands without 
visible means of subsistence. The circumstances 
which had led to a situation so necessarily embarrass- 
ing to a poor man with a family amounted, when 
condensed and stripped of irrelevancies, to something 
like this : 

Three or four years back an acquaintance, quickly 
developing into intimacy, had sprung up at Arcachon 
between the Eastwoods and the Hilliars — or rather 
between the former and amiable, invalided Mrs. 


DISMISSED LIONS 


17 


Hilliar; for Mr. Hilliar’s absences, on unspecified 
affairs, from the villa which his wife’s delicate health 
compelled him to rent for her in a mild climate had 
been frequent and prolonged. About eighteen months 
ago poor Mrs. Hilliar’s malady had taken a sudden 
turn for the worse and, before her roving husband 
could be communicated with, she had expired, 
commending her child, almost with her last breath, 
to friends whom she described as the only ones she 
had in the world. How could they repudiate the 
charge thus pathetically thrust upon them ? They 
had been very fond of Mrs. Hilliar, they were very 
fond of the little fellow himself, and Mr. Hilliar, 
when he appeared upon the scene, had been, to do 
him justice, handsome in his proposals. It was, he 
had explained, well-nigh impossible for him, who was 
obliged to be constantly on the move, to carry his 
small son about the world with him; but he would 
gladly and gratefully pay for the boy’s maintenance 
until such time as it should be in his power to make 
more definite arrangements. So Guy had become 
a temporary member of the Eastwood household, 
and payments had been made by his father, at first 
every month, afterwards with less regularity, finally 
— that was to say for six consecutive months — not at 
all. It is not pleasant to dun an absent friend, whose 
letters, though couched in the kindest and most 
appreciative terms, have ceased to contain any allu- 
sion to the sordid subject of ways and means ; yet the 
exigencies of a restricted income are insistent, and 
Mr. and Mrs. Eastwood had just made up their minds 
to give Mr. Hilliar’s memory a gentle jog when 
c 


18 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


information reached them from Malaga that he had 
fallen a victim to fever in that place. And the worst 
of it was that he had left literally not a penny more 
than had been required to pay his doctor’s bill and 
his funeral expenses. His friend Mr. Vigors, who had 
been with him at the last, had written that, to his 
certain knowledge, poor Hilliar had been “ stone 
broke,” and subsequent inquiry had confirmed the 
truth of that melancholy assertion. Consequently, 
the only step to be taken was to ascertain whether the 
orphan had any relations able and disposed to come 
to his aid. Of Hilliar relations none were discover- 
able; and indeed Mrs. Hilliar had mentioned that 
she could name no surviving member of her husband’s 
family. She had, however, spoken of a first cousin 
of her own, the Rev. John Clements, a Shropshire 
clergyman, and once or twice also of her kinsman, 
the distinguished author, Mr. Lequesne. Now, the 
Reverend John, on being apprised of the case, had 
answered politely, but quite decisively, that he could 
recognise no demand upon him in connection with 
it as valid. He was not at all well off ; his first duty 
was to his wife and children; if his unfortunate 
cousin Rosamund had seen fit to marry a man of 
dubious character, and if the child of her imprudent 
marriage had been left destitute, he was extremely 
sorry, but it was scarcely his affair. In brief, should 
the worst come to the worst, he would try to squeeze 
out twenty pounds a year; but more than that he 
could not do. And he would very much rather not 
do that. There remained the distinguished author; 
and it had seemed permissible to profit by one of 


DISMISSED LIONS 


19 


those infrequent visits to England which precarious 
health and limited means allowed to lay the facts 
before him. 

Such was Mr. Eastwood’s narrative ; respecting 
which Paul, who had listened attentively and without 
interrupting the speaker, had one or two observations 
to make. Had the boy’s father died intestate ? 
Had it been ascertained that he had possessed no 
means whatsoever at the time of his death ? Was 
it, for the matter of that, quite certain that he was 
not still alive ? Unscrupulous persons have been 
known to feign death in order to free themselves of 
irksome responsibilities, parental and other. Was 
Mr. Vigors a man whose statements could be relied 
upon ? 

Mr. Eastwood replied that he had anticipated the 
above queries. No will had been found. The late 
Mr. Hilliar’s bankers had testified that not a shilling 
remained to the credit of his account, which indeed 
he had attempted (albeit unsuccessfully) to overdraw. 
As to the fact of his demise, it was beyond question. 

“ About Mr. Vigors I hardly know what to say. I 
only saw him once, when he passed through Arcachon 
with his friend Hilliar on their way south. We were 
told that he was well connected; but, on the other 
hand, there were rumours of his being a gambler and 
out-at-elbows — rather shady and disreputable, in 
short. The truth is that one couldn’t feel exactly 
prepossessed in favour of any friend of poor Hilliar’s, 
who was himself shady, I am afraid, though the 
pleasantest, cheeriest fellow ! However, Mr. Vigors 
must be acquitted of aiding and abetting in any such 


20 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


deception as you suggest. I don’t at all wonder at 
your suggesting it ; the same idea, I confess, crossed 
my own mind. But I have papers which are quite 
conclusive upon the point, and I brought them with 
me to show you. They are lying on the hearthrug, 
where your housekeeper, at my request, kindly spread 
them out to dry.” 

The documents, issued and attested by Spanish 
local authorities, had not suffered much from their 
immersion, nor could it be doubted that they were 
genuine. A copy of a death-certificate, signed by 
two doctors, and a certificate of burial were supple- 
mented by a letter of condolence from the English 
chaplain at Malaga, who had conducted the funeral 
of the deceased, and who much regretted to say that 
previous ministrations on his part had been declined. 
“ Although,” he added, in a fine spirit of hopefulness, 
“ we are entitled to believe that a different decision 
would have been taken, but for the prostration 
consequent upon three days of high fever. Mr. 
Vigors, of whose devotion to his friend and efficiency 
under trying circumstances I cannot speak too 
highly, encourages that belief.” 

It seemed to be clearly established, then, that Guy 
Hilliar was an orphan. What was not in the least clear 
was Guy Hilliar’s future ; though what the evidently 
kind-hearted, anxious and perplexed Mr. Eastwood 
hoped it might be could be conjectured without any 
great difficulty. He and his wife would have con- 
sulted together, would have been at the pains to 
institute inquiries, and might well have scented in 


DISMISSED LIONS 


21 


the person of a lonely, childless, well-to-do widower 
a possible saviour of the situation. Hence, doubtless, 
Mr. Eastwood’s journey from London to Northumber- 
land, with the ingratiating, superfluous waif in tow. 
Small blame to the poor man ! Ingratiating though 
Guy might be (and the boy’s remarkable gifts and 
charms had been alluded to with wistful, incidental 
emphasis), his superfluousness was indisputable, and 
if it was rather too much to expect of his own distant 
kith and kin that they should assume possession of 
him, it would be still less reasonable to throw such 
an obligation upon a benevolent outsider. Now the 
notion that Providence or Fate had responded after 
this fashion to a mute cry of his did for a moment 
seem to smile at Paul Lequesne ; but it was manifestly 
too complex, too subversive, too fraught with all 
manner of drawbacks to be entertained then and 
there. How the dickens was he to deal with an 
unfledged mortal who, for at least a year or two yet, 
would demand some sort of , feminine supervision ? 
Measles, mumps, religious training, first aid in the 
educational process — what lone man is sufficient for 
these things ? A far simpler and wiser plan would 
be to subsidise the probably not unwilling Eastwoods. 
So, after a space of silence, he could find no more to 
say to the flushed, expectant man who, propped up 
by pillows, gazed interrogatively at him than : 

“ Well, Mr. Eastwood, we must think things over, 
and I daresay we shall be able to hit upon some 
solution. Our young friend downstairs seems to me 
to be about the most unattached human being I ever 


22 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


heard of in my life ; but if anybody is bound to annex 
him, it must be Mr. Clements and I ; it certainly can’t 
be you. And I don’t think I’ll trouble Mr. Clements 
for his annual twenty pound dole.” 

“ My dear sir,” exclaimed his gratified and relieved 
hearer, “you remove an immense load from my mind ! 
I came here, I assure you, with the utmost reluctance 
and diffidence; in fact, if my wife hadn’t urged the 
step upon me so strongly, I don’t know that I should 
have had the courage to take it at all. But, as she 
very truly said, it was our duty to leave no stone 
unturned. Just consider our position ! With four 
children and the scantiest of incomes, we should 
scarcely have been justified in adopting Guy ; 
yet ...” 

“ Ah, but please consider mine,” broke in Paul, 
who feared that Mr. Eastwood was going too fast. 
“It so happens, fortunately, that I can quite well 
afford to pay for a young kinsman’s keep and edu- 
cation, and .1 believe that is what I ought to do. 
Anyhow, I’ll do it. But I am not prepared to say 
that I can offer him a home. Owing to circumstances 
into which I need not enter, I myself may at any 
moment shut up this house and become virtually 
homeless. My plans are without shape, and are as 
likely as not to remain so for an indefinite length of 
time. So, you see, it would be nothing short of 
lunacy on my part to saddle myself today with 
somebody else’s offspring.” 

Mr. Eastwood hastened to concur. If a home 
was — as it plainly was — the first and most pressing 


DISMISSED LIONS 


23 


requisite, the Arcachon villa where he and his wife 
dwelt, year in and year out, was available. “ We 
ask for nothing better than to keep the boy with us 
as long as — well, as long as it may be thought desirable 
for us to keep him. The pecuniary difficulty has been 
the only lion in our path. That particular lion,” 
added Mr. Eastwood, with a rather rueful smile, 
“ prowls round about us pretty regularly; but if in 
this instance he can be driven off . . .” 

“ Oh, he shall be driven off,” Paul promised ; “set 
your mind at ease so far as the pecuniary lion is 
concerned. For the rest, as I said before, we must 
take a little time to consider matters. Meanwhile, 
I am sure the doctor would tell me that I have been 
making you talk a great deal more than you 
ought.” 

He descended the staircase with a very distinct 
sense of having acquired something. Possibly, 
should the Fates prove propitious, it might in the 
long run turn out that he had acquired something of 
inestimable value. 

To remove a lion from poor Mr. Eastwood’s path 
had been ridiculously easy : what if, in so doing, he 
should have scared away that far more formidable, 
dimly perceived lion of a second marriage from his 
own ? 

“ One must — anyhow, I must — have a dependent 
fellow-creature of some description in the world,” he 
reflected. “ That brat’s back isn’t very broad yet, 
but it will grow broader every day, and I shouldn’t 
wonder if it were to end by furnishing a defenceless 


24 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


man with all the shelter he will need against the fiery 
darts of widows and spinsters.” 

Such speculations were, of course, altogether 
premature; yet they served to dispel fears and fore- 
bodings which had been real enough, despite their 
haziness, some hours before. 


CHAPTER III 


GUY GETS INTO THE SADDLE 

“ On the mend, I believe, though he isn’t going to 
leave his bed yet awhile,” was the doctor’s pronounce- 
ment the next morning. “ The truth is that it doesn’t 
take much to kill people in his condition. I suppose 
you couldn’t send for his wife, could you ? He 
doesn’t wish her to be frightened ; but it would be as 
well, if possible, that he should have somebody about 
him who is accustomed to nursing, and I gather from 
what he says that he is accustomed to being nursed.” 

Mrs. Eastwood’s presence was to be desired on more 
grounds than one, and Paul, having obtained her 
London address, composed a telegram which would 
not, he hoped, unduly alarm the lady. Her husband, 
she was informed, had caught cold and was not fit for 
immediate travel. It would be a kindness to Mr. 
Lequesne if she would allow him to receive her as his 
guest for a few days. Stepping across to the stable- 
yard with this summons, which would have to be 
conveyed to Dunridge by hand, he descried Guy Hilliar 
engaged in earnest conversation with Perkins, and 
wished him good morning. 

“ I was wondering what had become of you,” he 
said. “ Why didn’t you turn up at breakfast ? ” 

“ Good morning, sir,” answered the boy. “ Oh, I 
26 


26 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


had breakfast with Mrs. Williams ever so long ago. 

I say, were you thinking of sending to Dunridge for 
our things ? ” 

“ Well, I must send Perkins to Dunridge with a 
telegram,” Paul replied. ‘‘Yes, of course, now that 
you mention it, he had better bring your luggage 
back.” 

“ Because,” pursued the boy breathlessly, “ I should 
like awfully to go with him, if you don’t mind. He 
says I could ride the horse that brought us over.” 

Paul pursed up his lips and shook his head. “We 
have only men’s saddles here,” he objected. “ I’m 
afraid you would hardly be able to sit in one of them 
even if Perkins were to go on horseback ; but, as he 
has to return with your traps, he must do the trip on 
wheels.” 

“ Beg pardon, sir,” interposed Perkins, with a grin, 
“ but the young gentleman seems to be wonderful 
keen about riding, and Hebblethwaite’s cob is that 
quiet you might lay his head up agin’ a steam-engine 
and he wouldn’t do nothing. You see, sir, the cob 
has got to be took back home anyhow, and Hebble- 
thwaite can send a light cart with the luggage. If you 
was to be so kind as to let the young gentleman come 
along o’ me, sir. I’ll undertake he don’t break no 
bones.” 

Guy kept silence, but looked expectant and confi- 
dent. He had, as Paul was to discover later, a way 
of looking like that. He had also a way of concluding 
swift alliances with all and sundry; witness the 
visible conquest of Perkins, who passed for a some- 
what gruff and unapproachable person. There are 


GUY GETS INTO THE SADDLE 27 


two good methods of encountering opposition in this 
world. The first is to fight it; only then you must 
take your chance of being worsted. The second and 
the surer is to treat it as non-existent ; only in order 
to employ that you must be blessed with certain 
innate gifts. It was doubtless because he was thus 
blessed that Guy Hilliar found himself, without much 
more ado, perched precariously upon the broad back 
of Mr. Hebbleth Waite’s shaggy cob. To the indignity 
of a leading-rein he did, indeed, submit ; but from the 
deprecating side-glance which he cast upon it Paul 
rightly surmised that this was meant to be a merely 
temporary concession. 

“ Well, what is it now ? ” Paul asked, as Perkins, 
preparatory to mounting, approached him with the 
air of one who has a confidential request or suggestion 
to make. 

“ I was on’y wondering, sir,” answered the man, 
“ whether you’d care to hire one o’ Hebblethwaite’s 
ponies for a bit. Mrs. Williams she tells me the young 
gentleman ’ll be here another week for sure, and I 
could teach him a deal in that time. Not to mention 
keeping him out of mischief and saving you bother, 
sir. That’s how I look at it.” 

“ Thank you, Perkins,” answered his master 
gravely ; “ it is very kind and thoughtful of you to 
look at it from that point of view. Oh, yes ; secure 
the pony if you can get one and if the boy still fancies 
horse exercise after the shake-up that he is going to 
have. But I rather expect to see him return in the 
cart with the luggage.” 

He would have had no such expectation if he had 


28 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


been better acquainted with Guy Hilliar, in whom 
tenacity of purpose was happily mated with abnormal 
physical toughness. He walked out of the stable- 
yard after the departing couple and watched them 
while they slowly descended the hill. They did not 
keep to the road, but, turning sharply to the right, 
made for the stream, which had, to be sure, diminished 
somewhat in volume since the previous afternoon, but 
which was still quite capable of administering a cold 
bath to the unwary. They splashed across the ford, 
however, without hesitation or difficulty ; the boy, 
looking back, waved his hand, and away cantered 
Perkins over the sands, the led cob lumbering after 
him like a dinghy in the wake of a yacht. 

“ Well,” muttered Paul, half amused, half angry, 
“ that’s one way of teaching people to ride. It 
wouldn’t be mine. Confound that ass Perkins ! 
Ten to one he gives the young beggar a toss and ruins 
his nerve ! ” 

But perhaps Perkins, who had begun life as an 
apprentice in a training stable, understood what he 
was about and was aware that the quality of nerve 
which is liable to be shaken by one fall in soft sand is 
hardly worth nursing. Be that as it may, the boy 
was not unseated, even when the canter developed 
into a hand-gallop. That he was not could only have 
been due to skill or instinct in the matter of main- 
taining balance; for of course it was out of the 
question for his short legs to get any grip of the saddle, 
and indeed recurrent flashes of daylight between them 
and it were visible to the already distant spectator. 
After a few furlongs Perkins pulled up, the leading- 


GUY GETS INTO THE SADDLE 29 


rein was discarded, and then Paul saw the pair jog 
along, side by side, in the sunshine, perceptibly 
contented with themselves and one another. 

The day was sunny and windy and rather cold, as 
the days of May are apt to be in that region. Thin 
clouds coursed across a pale blue sky; a glittering 
fringe of surf defined the great semicircle of the bay ; 
battalions of sea-birds, wheeling and calling, poised 
themselves above the breakers ; far off a patch of 
grey smoke marked the spot where Dunridge lay 
hidden amongst sandhills and low cliffs. Paul turned 
away, with a sigh, and made for the house. He was 
thinking that it is good to be young and a pity that 
one never knows — can’t know — when one is well off. 
One knows when one is badly off, though, and can 
appreciate at its full worth any mitigation of one’s dis- 
tress. As Paul sat down at his writing-table and pre- 
pared to grapple with an essay upon the philosophers 
and metaphysicians of the seventeenth century, it 
came to him more and more forcibly that he would 
be a fool to let the indicated and offered amendment 
in his own lot slip through his fingers. Would it, 
after all, he wondered, be such a wild enterprise to 
assume immediate possession of the orphan ? 

Paul’s theory upon the subject of dogs was that 
unless you have them from puppyhood you will never 
make them really your own dogs at all, and the 
essential point for him was to have something of his 
very own. 

“ Besides, hang it all ! I know I’m going to be 
fond of the young rascal. I’m positively fond of him 
as it is, though I know no more about him than he 


30 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


does about me. Anyhow, I don’t want him to dislike 
me, and who doesn’t dislike an absent, benevolent 
patron ? ” 

Hobbes, Descartes, Spinoza and the rest of them 
were treated that day in a spirit of veiled and respect- 
ful sarcasm which slightly surprised the essayist him- 
self. Paul’s pen was ever at the mercy of his mood, 
and his mood just then was not one of reverence for 
philosophic theses and precepts. All those ponderous 
tomes, all that prodigious cry, and in the end so very 
small a handful of wool ! The learned seeker after 
truth, shorn, as he is bound to be, by learned scribes 
of a later age, makes but a sorry show when they have 
done with him, and weary students may well exclaim, 
with old Montaigne, Que S(^ais-je ? or with Faust, Da 
steh" ich nun, ich armer Thor ! Und bin so Mug als 
wie zuvor. If (by cogitation or otherwise) we are 
persuaded of the fact that we exist, not much more 
can be taken as proved in regard to an existence 
about which assertions so numerous, so confident and 
so contradictory are put forward. During its brief 
span things, good and evil, happen to us — some 
through our own volition, others unquestionably in 
independence or defiance of it. They have to be 
accepted. Even our mode of dealing with them has 
to be accepted, since the claim of free will, so flattering 
to our self-love, will not stand scrutiny, and we remain 
under the sway of our respective temperaments, 
which we did not create and cannot alter. Paul, who 
perhaps knew himself about as well as any of us can 
pretend to know ourselves, was always on his guard 
against a natural tendency to quick decisions. But 


GUY GETS INTO THE SADDLE 31 


what was the result ? Why, in nine cases out of ten 
that, after full deliberation, he acted just as he would 
have done if he had obeyed his first impulse. Still, 
deliberation and delay, though they may do little 
good, can do no harm; so when the radiant Guy 
returned towards evening, he was not at once asked 
how he would like to exchange Arcachon for North- 
umberland as an established place of residence. 

Only towards evening did the boy reappear; for 
Perkins had been instructed to wait at Dunridge for 
a reply to Paul’s telegram. This he had done, and 
in the compass of twenty well-selected words Mrs. 
Eastwood contrived to notify that she was distressed, 
ashamed, grateful, that she would not cause additional 
inconvenience by taking the night express, but that 
she hoped to arrive about five o’clock on the morrow. 
Guy did not- seem to be very much interested in her 
advent or in the condition of Mr. Eastwood, who was 
reported to be neither better nor worse. He had 
tidings of greater personal moment to impart. 

“ I say,” he began, as soon as he was given a chance, 
“ we’ve got the pony all right, and I rode him back. 
He’s a ripper ! Perkins believes he can jump ; but 
he wouldn’t let me try him at a little stone wall. Do 
you think we might have some hurdles put up in a field 
tomorrow ? ” 

Well, the hurdles and the pony had to wait, and so 
had Master Guy. He was, as Perkins appreciatively 
remarked, “ an uncommon hard little customer ” ; 
but he had had no recent experience of the saddle, and, 
as a consequence, abrasions had been sustained of 
which he became acutely conscious the next morning. 


32 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


He was fain to take Mrs. Williams into his confidence, 
ruefully and reluctantly fain to agree with her that a 
day of remedies and comparative inaction must be 
his portion. The loan of a light fishing-rod partially 
consoled him, and although he did not succeed in 
getting a rise (the state of the turbid stream not being 
such as to encourage anglers), he delighted Paul by 
the rapidity with which he learnt how to throw a 

fly. 

Very likely he would have delighted anybody, for 
he was as quick, intelligent and observant as he was 
cheerful, and his flow of conversation never flagged; 
but to a man fatigued almost to breaking-down point 
by long communion with his own sad soul he was as 
the dew of heaven to parched ground. In the after- 
noon they had a ramble together along the seashore, 
and before they reached home, to find Mrs. Eastwood 
already awaiting them, they had arrived at a mutual 
understanding which was destined to endure. 

Mrs. Eastwood, a plump matron whose brown hair 
was streaked with grey, and whose pleasant, homely 
features showed traces of a struggle with the asperities 
of small -income life, seemed to take in the situation 
at a glance. She could not fairly be accused of having 
created the situation, since it was not to be supposed 
that her husband had half drowned himself at her 
bidding ; but it would have been only human on her 
part to hope for it, or for something like it. Indeed, 
she made frank avowal of such hopes a few hours 
later, when she and Paul had dined together and Guy 
had been sent to bed. 

“ Of course,” said she, “ neither John nor I could 


GUY GETS INTO THE SADDLE 33 


have ventured to propose your adopting Guy; yet 
one did feel that if you were to see him, there might 
be just a chance of your taking a fancy to him. 
Because he is a dear boy, isn’t he ? ” 

“Yes, he is a nice boy,” answered Paul; “ but, as 
I pointed out to your husband, I am rather unfavour- 
ably handieapped for ventures of that sort. If I 
were an old lady, for instance, the thing would be as 
simple as engaging a governess and having a school- 
room prepared. Placed as I am, governesses look 
somewhat impossible.” 

Mrs. Eastwood quite saw that; but she also saw 
plainly enough what her host’s wishes were, and she 
signified her sympathy with them. Upon the worst 
view of it, his position could offer no greater embar- 
rassments than that of a widower with an only son of 
tender years, and Guy, after all, was not of such very 
tender years. School loomed upon the near horizon ; 
preparation for sehool under male tuition ought not 
to be unattainable; in short, given the will, a way 
might surely be discovered. At the same time, if 
Mr. Lequesne thought the plan of whieh he had spoken 
to her husband a more promising one, she would 
gladly take the boy baek to France and do her best 
for him until she should be replaeed by an English 
schoolmaster. 

But after the first evening that project was tacitly 
abandoned, and further discussions between Paul and 
the Eastwoods assumed a more practical shape. The 
invalid, whose recovery was retarded by no compli- 
cations, was of his wife’s mind as to the mistake of 
making two bites at a cherry. Assuming that Guy’s 

D 


34 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


eventual home was to be with Mr. Lequesne, the 
sooner existing ties were snapped the better. “ If 
I might presume to advise, I should say, let him have 
some memories of childhood connected with you 
before school changes and hardens him. That will 
give you a hold over him which nothing else ever can 
and for which you may both be thankful in after 
life.” 

This sounded like wise counsel : added to which, 
it was in entire consonance with Paul’s personal ideas 
and inclinations. By the time that Mr. Hale had 
been approached and had been found willing to lay 
the foundations of a classical and religious education ; 
by the time that Mrs. Williams, who had successfully 
brought up three children of her own, had proclaimed 
her readiness to discharge quasi-maternal functions, 
and by the time that Mr. Eastwood was pronounced 
fit to face a railway journey, it only remained to 
convey to the person chiefly concerned an intimation 
which was received by him with outspoken enthusiasm. 
It would have been pretty of him, perhaps, to evince 
some regret at the prospect of severance from people 
who had been so good to him ; but then again it might 
have been insincere, and insincerity at the age of nine 
is an alarming symptom. 

“ What I particularly like about the boy,” Paul 
wrote, at the end of an unusually long explanatory 
epistle to his friend Mrs. Baldwin, “ is his cheery inde- 
pendence. As far as one can forecast the future, he 
will need to be independent; for he seems to be 
totally bereft of kindred and, although there is nothing 
the matter with my health, accidents may happen to 


GUY GETS INTO THE SADDLE 35 


anybody. That is one reason why I want to bespeak 
your kindly interest for him. Of course you won’t 
applaud this leap in the dark of mine, and I daresay 
you will think that I might have consulted you and 
other friends before committing myself to it. Well, 
yes. But, you see, the truth is that consulting you 
wouldn’t have made any difference. I should only 
have had the air of ungraciously scouting your admo- 
nitions, and in one way at least I score by announcing 
the event after its accomplishment. For in the good 
time coming, when this innocent child has developed 
into a handsome young man (he is going to be a very 
handsome young man, I think) and has run into debt 
and married a chorus girl and threatened his bene- 
factor’s life and all the rest of it, you won’t be able to 
round upon me with ‘ Didn’t I tell you so ! ’ ” 


D 2 


CHAPTER IV 


MRS. BALDWIN AND MR. VIGORS 

When the erudite Professor Baldwin expired after 
a short illness, of what the doctors called “ heart 
failure ” (to which cause, indeed, together with 
cessation of breath, everybody’s demise may be 
correctly assigned), his widow wept like Niobe; for 
he had been quite a nice old man in his way and she 
had been quite fond of him — in hers. Since, however, 
the Professor had been very nearly double her age, 
since she was pretty, well-to-do and of a cheerful, 
gregarious nature, a day came when she had to 
pocket her handkerchief. It came, in truth, rather 
sooner than she cared to admit to a fellow-mourner 
so tragically unlike her as Paul Lequesne; yet she 
did not shrink from the friendly duty of reminding 
him that if fidelity is a fine attribute, courage is 
another, and that life is not given to us to be spent 
in vain repining. One immediate effect of these 
exhortations has been alluded to : possibly, if Mrs. 
Baldwin had not been in the main a good-natured 
woman, she would have resented the rebuff and 
dropped the startled recusant. But she did not wish 
to drop a friend to whom she was sincerely attached, 
so when Paul took to his heels she only shrugged her 
shoulders. Sooner or later he must needs recognise 
36 


MRS. BALDWIN AND MR. VIGORS 37 


what all the world is bound to recognise, and then, 
no doubt, he would revert to a social scheme which 
had of yore made him the pleasantest of hosts and 
companions. Meanwhile, she remained in touch 
with him through the medium of the post. Lengthy 
and chatty accounts of a winter sojourn in Rome had 
reached the hermit of Stone Hall; now at a season 
which both in Italy and in Northumberland goes by 
the name of spring, but which has no common feature 
save that name, she had flitted to Florence, where 
she was spending a few weeks very agreeably in a 
Bello Sguardo villa, placed at her disposal by an 
absent acquaintance. 

Mrs. Baldwin was one of those extremely fair women 
whose clear and flawless skins are the envy of the rest 
of their sex. She had a neat figure, china-blue eyes 
and rippling flaxen hair; her curved lips almost 
always wore a smile. The half mourning which was 
the symbol of her no longer recent widowhood suited 
her, and the French-grey costume which she was 
wearing, as she sat in her carriage near the rails at a 
race-meeting in the Cascine was the work of a skilled 
artist. Beside her sat her little four-year-old daughter 
Audrey, while from the opposite seat the black eyes 
and olive complexion of a picturesquely attired Italian 
nurse served (doubtless undesignedly, but not the less 
effectually) to throw her blonde charms into relief. 
The little daughter and the nurse served, in any case, 
to give countenance to a lady who might have hesi- 
tated to appear on a race-course all by herself. Mrs. 
Baldwin, though neither shy nor prudish, was a strict 
upholder of the proprieties, and over-precaution is a 


38 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


fault on the right side when one is conscious of being 
a good deal admired and is likewise anxious to enlarge 
one’s visiting-list. 

The well-dressed, well set-up man who presently 
drew near and raised his hat was precisely one of those 
persons who might or might not form desirable addi- 
tions to a London visiting-list. Mrs. Baldwin liked 
him ; he seemed to be well-bred and to have a large 
circle of friends, British and foreign; but she had 
not thus far come across anybody who had known 
Mr. Vigors in England ; so the rather marked atten- 
tions which he had been pleased to pay her of late 
had met with no more than a guarded encouragement. 

“ Been here long ? ” he asked, in a tone of easy 
familiarity which somehow was not disrespectful. 
“ I was afraid you had changed your mind about 
coming, and indeed I can’t say that there’s much in 
the way of racing to deserve your patronage. The 
whole mise en schne is charming, though, isn’t it ? — 
the sunshine and the greenness and the pretty frocks 
and all.” 

His eyes rested approvingly upon Mrs. Baldwin’s 
pretty frock; his shapely hand bestowed a light pat 
upon the head of the child, who looked up at him and 
laughed; he had even a quick glance for the hand- 
some nurse which was probably not thrown away. 
Mr. Vigors’s age might have been anything between 
thirty and forty. He had a short, straight nose and 
a square jaw ; his greyish eyes and rather wide mouth 
exhibited a hint of latent humour which was pre- 
possessing enough. He wore his dark hair cut very 
close to his head, as was the custom at that time, and 


MRS. BALDWIN AND MR. VIGORS 39 


he anticipated a fashion which had not yet become 
general by shaving the whole of his face. Miss 
Shakerley said he looked like a cross between an actor 
and a convict; but that was not at all true. He 
looked at least as much like a Master of Hounds or a 
smart variety of barrister, and no impartial critic 
would have denied him the voice and bearing of a 
gentleman. If Miss Shakerley chose to proclaim 
her belief that he was an adventurer and a blackleg, 
that was in all probability because he had not troubled 
himself to propitiate her, and because she was a sour, 
jealous, stuck-up old maid who thought she could 
patronise everybody upon the strength of being the 
sister of an Irish viscount. 

Such, at all events, was Mrs. Baldwin’s estimate of 
a lady with whom she had had sundry slight passages 
of arms, and whom she now saw approaching at the 
striding, masculine pace affected by some sports- 
women. Miss Shakerley, gaunt, hook-nosed and 
weatherbeaten, wore a short tweed skirt, thick boots 
and a covert-coat. She had the effect of aggressively 
intimating to the assembled Italian ladies, who were 
arrayed like the lilies of the field, and of whose amazed 
scrutiny she could not but be aware, that what was 
good enough for a country race-meeting in England 
was good enough for their poor little show. 

“ Rotten sport,” she remarked, as she offered Mrs. 
Baldwin a large hand, clad in buckskin, “ but it makes 
a change from picture-galleries and churches. Are 
you going to Princess Monterone’s ball tonight ? 
Oh, no, you don’t know her, do you ? I should think 
that unfortunate child must be rather bored, squatting 


40 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


in a carriage, instead of running about and stretching 
her arms and legs. What sort of a peasant is the nurse 
meant to duty for ? I never saw anything like her 
out of a doll -shop.” 

Mrs. Baldwin blandly ignored these invitations to 
the fray, while Mr. Vigors, whose folded arms rested 
upon the hood of the carriage, brought a reflective 
gaze to bear upon the speaker. He may have been 
thinking that he had never seen anything at all like 
her, in a doll -shop or elsewhere, and she may have 
divined what his faintly amused smile implied; but 
although she had a shot in her locker for him (and 
had indeed borne down upon Mrs. Baldwin’s equipage 
with the express intention of firing it), she preferred 
to go on talking as if he did not exist. Only after 
she had witnessed the result of a race through her 
binoculars and had delivered some trenchant criti- 
cisms upon the winner’s style of finishing did she 
abruptly unmask her batteries with — 

“ By the way, Mr. Vigors, you were telling us the 
other day that the Duke of Branksome is a relation of 
yours. Well, he arrived here last night, and there he 
is — the old gentleman in the grey coat — so that will 
be nice for you.” 

The effect of this announcement upon Mr. Vigors 
was a little disappointing; for he showed no sign of 
confusion, but only said : 

“ Oh, Branksome, yes ; we’re connected, hardly 
what you could call related. In fact, I haven’t set 
eyes upon him since I was a boy. However, I dare- 
say he won’t repudiate me if I look him up.” 

“ His eyes seem to be set upon you now,” observed 


MRS. BALDWIN AND MR. VIGORS 41 


Miss Shakerley maliciously. “ You might take this 
opportunity to renew the intercourse of boyhood.” 

Mr. Vigors took it without more ado. Probably the 
Duke of Branksome, who was ever quick to descry and 
admire a pretty woman, had been looking at Mrs. 
Baldwin, not at him ; but his reception, which the 
two ladies watched from afar, had all the appearance 
of being a cordial one. They saw Mr. Vigors shaken 
by the hand; presently they saw him patted on the 
shoulder ; then the Duke and he strolled off together 
in the direction of the paddock, consulting, as they 
walked, a race-card which Vigors was tapping with his 
pencil. 

“ That man’s impudence would carry him through 
anything ! ” exclaimed the vexed Miss Shakerley. 
“ I wouldn’t mind laying ten to one that he is no more 
connected with the Duke than he is with the Pope; 
only I expect he has had the wit to name the winner 
of the next race.” 

“ I am glad,” said Mrs. Baldwin, who was beginning 
to lose patience, “ that I haven’t such a suspicious 
mind as yours. I know nothing about Mr. Vigors, 
except that he has been kind and polite, but I did see 
from the first that he was a gentleman.” 

“ And I saw from the first that he was an arrant 
bounder,” returned the other contemptuously. “ He 
has managed to dazzle and humbug you all by spend- 
ing money freely and bragging about his intimacy 
with people high up in the world; but he has never 
taken me in for a moment. One recognises that type 
of chevalier dHndustrie at a glance when one has 
knocked about as much as I have.” ' 


42 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


Not until some hours later did rejoinders of a telling 
and crushing order suggest themselves to Mrs. Bald- 
win. All she did at the time was to contemplate the 
horizon and wish that Miss Shakerley would go away. 
But before very long she was heartily glad that that 
disagreeable woman had seen fit to remain stationary ; 
for just as she was upon the point of remarking that 
she must take Audrey home before sunset, who should 
reappear but Mr. Vigors, accompanied by an elderly 
gentleman of amiable aspect, and welcome as flowers 
in May was the voice of Mr. Vigors when he said : 

“ Mrs. Baldwin, I want to introduce my cousin, the 
Duke of Branksome.” 

The spruce, smiling Duke wanted to be introduced. 
He was kind enough to say so, and he might have 
added that he always wanted to be introduced to 
ladies who looked attractive. Apparently he had 
expressed no eagerness to be presented to Miss Shaker- 
ley. It may be said at once that he was not Mr. 
Vigors’s cousin, although he did not mind being thus 
designated. He had dimly remembered, on being put 
in mind of the circumstance, that there were collateral 
Vigorses; he was not reminded, and had perhaps 
never been aware, that the career of one of them had 
reflected little lustre upon the clan. He himself was 
good-natured, easy-going, predisposed in favour of 
any man who had some knowledge of horseflesh; 
moreover, when the Duchess was not with him, he 
felt at liberty in the matter of casual acquaintance- 
ships. His ready acceptance of Mr. Vigors, therefore, 
did not mean quite as much as it was taken to mean 
by divers interested spectators; but it certainly did 


MRS. BALDWIN AND MR. VIGORS 43 


mean a signal victory for that gentleman and a sharp 
defeat for the crestfallen Miss Shakerley, who quitted 
the field in disorder. 

Mrs. Baldwin also had a joyous sense of victory. 
Nobody could pretend that she had vouched for 
Mr. Vigors or that she had been imprudently intimate 
with him ; still Miss Shakerley (and, for all she knew, 
others as well) had chosen to represent her as his 
dupe; so that his vindication was in some sort her 
own. To say that, apart from the above considera- 
tion, she was made happy by ducal civilities is to 
bring no very uncharitable charge against her, and 
this particular duke was so friendly and pleasant that 
she must have taken to him if he had been the least 
distinguished of commoners. For some little time he 
remained chatting with her; he asked leave to call, 
regretted very much that she was not going to Princess 
Monterone’s dance, and even hinted that, if she cared 
about an invitation, he might procure one for her. 
Mrs. Baldwin’s self-respect would not allow her to 
notice that tentative suggestion; but of course she 
said that she would be charmed to see the Duke at tea 
any afternoon, and so took her departure in placid 
triumph. 

It is perhaps necessary to be a duke in order to 
realise to the full what immense facilities for pro- 
moting the happiness of humbler mortals inhere in 
the mere possession of that dignity. There is, to 
be sure, by way of counterpoise the responsibility 
attaching to a right use of such facilities ; but, as the 
Duke of Branksome had always taken life lightly and 
gaily, it may be hoped that he was able, during the 


44 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


ensuing fortnight, to enjoy without misgiving the 
spectacle of the benefits bestowed by his countenance 
upon Mrs. Baldwin and Mr. Vigors. The latter, 
already liked for his frank, engaging manner, his 
lavish hospitality and his alacrity in organising enter- 
tainments of all kinds, found himself immediately 
the most popular man in Florence. As for the former, 
not only was she made the recipient of flattering 
advances on the part of ladies who had hitherto taken 
little notice of her, but she had the satisfaction of 
knowing that she was secretly envied the assiduous 
homage paid to her by one whose detractors had 
fallen silent. Very sweet to Mrs. Baldwin’s palate 
were these experiences, and not unwelcome was the 
homage alluded to, although she did not mean to 
let it go too far. She was by no means devoid of 
shrewdness, she knew the value of independence, and 
she knew various other things into the bargain — 
amongst them that Mr. Vigors was addicted to high 
play. That was his affair ; she had no intention of 
making it hers. Gamblers may be charming as 
friends or admirers; but women who wish for peace 
and security do not marry them. If Mrs. Baldwin 
had been minded to marry a second time, her choice 
assuredly would not have fallen upon Mr. Vigors. 
Nor, perhaps, would it have fallen upon Paul Lequesne, 
strong as was her affection for that friend of many 
years’ standing, and piqued though she had been by 
his maladroit intimation that he was not a candidate 
for the late Professor’s shoes. She would not have 
accepted Mr. Vigors and might not have accepted 
Paul, if either of them had asked her ; but she had no 


MRS. BALDWIN AND MR. VIGORS 45 


sort of objection to being asked. On the contrary, 
as regarded one of them, she almost felt that she 
ought to have been asked. She quite felt that it was 
her right to be consulted by him before he took any 
important step or decision. 

Thus it happened that Mr. Vigors, presenting himself 
at the Bello Sguardo villa one fine morning, found his 
fair friend seated under a tent-umbrella in the garden 
with a puckered brow and an open letter on her knees. 

“ No bad news, I hope ? ” said he interrogatively, 
pointing to the sheet. 

“ Yes, horrid ! ” was Mrs. Baldwin’s vexed reply. 
“ One of my oldest friends writes to tell me that he 
has done a perfectly idiotic thing. I don’t know 
whether you ever heard of him — Paul Lequesne, the 
author.” 

Oh, yes, Mr. Vigors had heard of him; had even 
read some of his books. “ With difficulty, I must 
confess, but with a great deal of ignorant appreciation. 
I shouldn’t have supposed him to be an idiot. What 
has he been doing ? ” 

“Adopting a nine-year-old waif; it’s too ridicu- 
lous ! I used to be very fond of his wife, and since 
her death, two years ago, I have been almost the only 
person to whom he has spoken or written. I do think 
he might have given me a chance of dissuading him 
from such a gratuitous piece of folly as this ! ” 

Mr. Vigors listened to further details with a sympa- 
thetic interest which was perceptibly augmented by 
the mention of the adopted orphan’s name. 

“ Hilliar ? ” he repeated. “ Not poor Jack Hilliar’s 
boy, by any chance ? ” 


46 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“I’m sure I don’t know whether the father’s name 
was Jack or not,” answered Mrs. Baldwin. “ He 
seems to have been a species of vagabond and to have 
left his son to the charity of some people called East- 
wood. Did you ever come across him ? ” 

“ I knew him well ; I was with him when he died 
at Malaga. In fact, it devolved upon me to do what 
could be done for him during his short illness and to 
communicate with the Eastwoods as soon as all was 
over. I couldn’t communicate with his people, for 
he had never mentioned them to me. Mr. Lequesne 
must be one of them, I presume. Well, perhaps I 
ought to be sorry for your friend, but I can’t help 
being glad for Jack Hilliar’s sake. I know he was 
troubled about his boy, and well he might be, for he 
died practically penniless, poor fellow ! ” 

“ It sounds rather discreditable,” murmured Mrs. 
Baldwin, naively giving expression to the almost 
universal sentiment respecting the destitute. “ What 
kind of person was this Mr. Hilliar ? ” 

Mr. Vigors smiled and shrugged his shoulders. 
“ Oh, well, de mortuis, you know. ... I don’t say 
that he would ever have been likely to set a bright 
example to his son ; but there were good points about 
him. And he had bad luck. The very worst of luck, 
certainly, at San Sebastian and other places where we 
played baccarat on that last trip of his. What would 
have become of him if he hadn’t died I can’t think ! ” 
“ Ah, that’s what gambling leads to ! ” observed 
Mrs. Baldwin, improving the occasion. 

Her neighbour accepted the reproof with disarming 
meekness. “ Oh, if you mean that I’m a confirmed 


MRS. BALDWIN AND MR. VIGORS 47 


gamester and that I ought to be ashamed of myself, 
I plead guilty,” he returned. “ Just now I feel more 
than usually ashamed, because for the last two or three 
nights I’ve done nothing but lose. At such times one 
clearly sees the error of one’s ways. Yet — one is 
bound to go on until the luck turns.” 

“ Yes ; and when it does turn, you feel bound to 
go on until it deserts you again.” 

Mr. Vigors nodded and smiled. “ My dear Mrs. 
Baldwin, you compress the whole vicious circle into a 
nutshell. I’ve nothing at all to say for myself. That 
is, unless my being a lone bachelor may count as some 
excuse. Perhaps, if I were a married man, or if I had 
a young son dependent upon me, I should abjure 
cards ; but then again perhaps I shouldn’t. It’s best 
not to boast. The truth is that I love all games of 
chance.” 

Mrs. Baldwin read him a little homily. She said 
she was not straitlaced; she saw no reason why 
people should not amuse themselves with games of 
chance or skill, provided they did not stake more 
than they could afford to lose. Surely it was possible 
to get the requisite degree of excitement out of the 
gain or loss of comparatively small sums. 

“ Possible,” Mr. Vigors agreed, “ but not altogether 
easy. You see, one plays where play is to be had; 
which means, generally speaking, at clubs. And in 
foreign clubs the recognised stakes are apt to be high. 
Then why frequent them ? you’ll ask. Well, as I 
said before, what is a lone bachelor to do with his 
evenings ? ” 

In the verbal contest provoked by this question, 


48 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


and rendered lively by the thrust and parry of dis- 
putants who were not too much in earnest, the late 
Jack Hilliar and Paul Lequesne dropped out of sight. 
Mr. Vigors contrived to insinuate that he was capable 
of becoming earnest at any moment, but that he was 
chivalrously disinclined to cause embarrassment to a 
hospitable lady who had every right to give him his 
cue. That was an attitude which Mrs. Baldwin could 
appreciate, and which, indeed, suited her well enough. 
Demure flirtation is a harmless form of amusement 
and it was not likely to inflict any serious wound upon 
the heart of her visitor, whom she liked better and 
better the more she saw of him. A gambler he might 
be, and perhaps he was not exempt from other failings ; 
but at least he was a gentleman — frank, simple and 
unaffected. He looked you straight in the face while 
he talked, and his clear, healthy eyes, which were 
rather peculiar — being of a pale grey hue, with faint 
greenish rays in the iris — gave the lie to such malig- 
nant surmises as Miss Shakerley and others had 
thought proper to disseminate. 

After he had gone, Mrs. Baldwin, reverting to the 
consideration of a less agreeable subject, made reply 
to Paul Lequesne at some length. She mentioned 
that she had met Mr. Vigors, who unfortunately had 
no good report to give of the late Hilliar ; she dwelt 
upon the risk of inherited tendencies and the infatua- 
tion of courting disappointment and disillusion. She 
also said that of course it was no business of hers to 
interfere, and that, since she had been told in so many 
words how little her opinion was desired or valued, 
there might be impertinence in offering it >^Uhe 


MRS. BALDWIN AND MR. VIGORS 49 


same time, she could not help thinking that, as one 
who had at any rate tried to be of use, she was entitled 
just to point out — &c., &c. 

Having thus let off steam, she read over what she 
had written, laughed a little and tore the sheet to 
pieces. This was highly characteristic of her; for, 
as has been said, she was in the main a kind-hearted 
woman and she was essentially a prudent one. There- 
fore, notwithstanding a pardonable wish to administer 
to her correspondent the rating that he deserved, she 
recognised that it would not be in the least worth 
while to quarrel with him. After all, severe silence 
would be at once more dignified and more effective. 


E 


CHAPTER V 


INNOCENT FELLOW-SUFFERERS 

Just when Italy is beginning to be really Italy, 
and a divine climate has finally shaken off those 
accesses of bitter cold which render it, while they 
last, no bad imitation of a diabolical one, the invading 
armies from the north turn their backs upon her and 
leave her to herself. It is (from the invaders’ point 
of view) a great pity ; but, since nobody can be in two 
places at one and the same time, it cannot be helped, 
and the claims of London must needs be acknowledged 
both by the fashionable and by those who lack courage 
to own that they are not so. 

“ I suppose,” said Mr. Vigors, who had been having 
tea in Mrs. Baldwin’s garden one afternoon with a 
number of other guests, and who, as had become his 
habit, had lingered behind the last of them, “ you 
are making ready for flight, like the rest of the world. 
Branksome tells me he’s off on Monday, and I hear 
of so many impending departures that my little fare- 
well entertainment will evidently have to be given 
this week if it is to be given at all.” 

“ What entertainment ? ” Mrs. Baldwin asked. 

“ Oh, only a small impromptu dance that I had in 
mind. People have been very nice to me here, and 
60 


INNOCENT FELLOW-SUFFERERS 51 


I should like to make some sort of return. I may 
count upon you to help me with it, I hope ? ” 

Mrs. Baldwin replied that she would be charmed 
to do what she could. During her married life she 
had given up dancing, but of late she had once or 
twice allowed herself to be persuaded (generally 
by Mr. Vigors) to resume a recreation of which she 
had been fond and for which she could not yet be 
accounted too old. She jibbed indeed at the further 
suggestion that she should act as hostess — obviously 
it would not do for her to accept that part — but she 
was very willing to inspect the list of the invited and 
to supply the practical hints for which she was 
asked. Only she had to enter a protest against the 
splendour and extravagance of Mr. Vigors’s ideas. 
A good band of course, and stacks of flowers, if he 
insisted upon having them, and a supper, if he in- 
sisted upon that; but to make the cotillon (upon 
which he likewise insisted) a pretext for offering gifts 
of jewellery ! . . . . Mrs. Baldwin had heard that 
such prodigality was not without precedent, but she 
had always fancied that the people who practised it 
were rather .... 

“ Vulgar and ostentatious ? ” put in her com- 
panion, with a goodhumoured laugh. “ Well, say 
I’m both ; it doesn’t matter if I am. Anyhow, when 
I give my friends a treat, I like to do them well. And 
I can assure you that the ladies won’t a bit mind 
taking my trinkets. It isn’t as if I proposed to shower 
diamonds upon them; all I want is that they should 
carry away some trifling memento of the good time 
that we have had these last weeks.” 


52 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ Well, it’s very kind of you,” said Mrs. Baldwin, 
almost won over — for in truth she had come to regard 
Mr. Vigors as in some sense belonging to her, and she 
rather liked the notion of his finishing up thus re- 
splendently with a blaze of fireworks, as it were — 
“ very kind and generous ; but I can’t think it 
necessary.” 

“ Oh, if it were necessary, it couldn’t be called 
kind or generous, could it ? Not that it’s either ; 
it’s nothing but an acknowledgment, which I shall 
enjoy making, of other people’s kindness and gener- 
osity. The only bother is .... ” 

He stopped short, pinched his lower lip between 
his finger and thumb and had a little laugh to himself, 
as at some comic, but vexatious difficulty, the nature 
of which he refused to specify. when requested to do 
so. Naturally, he was begged and commanded to 
specify it. At length, with another laugh and a 
shrug of his shoulders, he obeyed orders. 

It was too absurd; but the fact was that he found 
himself for the moment without ready money to pay 
jewellers, florists and others who might not be dis- 
posed to grant credit to a stranger. He had meant 
the dance to take place in the course of the ensuing 
week, by which time remittances would have reached 
him from England; but now there was this unavoid- 
able hurry, and he hardly knew what to do about it. 
“ Branksome would oblige me with a loan, no doubt, 
only I don’t much like applying to him just as he is 
on the eve of starting for home. I shouldn’t be able 
to repay him by Monday, you see.” 

If Mrs. Baldwin took this for a broad hint, she was 


INNOCENT FELLOW-SUFFERERS 53 


scarcely to be blamed ; but she blamed herself a good 
deal when her response — made after just one moment 
of hesitation — gave visible offence. The genial Mr. 
Vigors, it seemed, could look extremely angry and 
rather formidable when provoked, and he evidently 
deemed that great provocation had been offered to 
him. Far from returning thanks, he frowned and said 
coldly that he was very sorry to have laid himself open 
to so extraordinary a proposal. It was not pleasant 
to be under pecuniary obligations to anybody; but 
to accept, and to seem to have invited, such assist- 
ance from a lady ! . . Well, it would be a lesson 
to him to be more cautious in the future, that was all. 

He made as though he would have taken his leave 
in deep dudgeon ; but of course this could not be per- 
mitted. Mrs. Baldwin was all the more apologetic 
because she was afraid he must have noticed the brief 
demur which had preceded her unfortunate overture, 
and it was not until he, in his turn, had apologised 
for having nearly lost his temper that she plucked up 
courage to renew it. Why should it be considered 
insulting to offer a trifling service to a friend when 
one could do so without the slightest personal incon- 
venience ? As it happened, she had changed a batch 
of circular notes that very day and had plenty of 
money in the house. She was not going away on 
the following Monday, like the Duke of Branksome, 
and surely it was paying her rather a poor compli- 
ment to spurn what she herself would not have thought 
twice about taking, had their respective positions 
been reversed ! 

Mr. Vigors, however, remained obdurate. He im- 


54 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


plored her to say no more about it. He did not want 
to make mountains out of molehills, but there were 
certain universally recognised rules which must be 
regarded as inviolable. No ; he could not admit that 
there was anything absurd or unreasonable in making 
a fetish of general rules. Perhaps he was entitled 
to say that he knew a little more of the world than 
Mrs. Baldwin did, and she might take his word for it 
that to surrender fetishes of that description is to 
put yourself, so to speak, out of the game. 

Yet he left Mrs. Baldwin’s villa, a quarter of an 
hour later, with bank-notes to the value of 2,500 lire 
in his pocket. That was doubtless because he did not 
leave at once, instead of requesting the lady to drop 
the subject. Such requests, as he ought to have 
been aware, are never complied with, and he should 
also have been aware that it is wiser, as well as easier, 
to run away from a resolute lady than to argue with 
her. Mrs. Baldwin showed herself resolute to the 
point of threatening that if she were thwarted in this 
matter, she would have nothing more to do with 
Mr. Vigors’s dance : all that can be claimed for her 
vanquished opponent is that when he withdrew, she 
had the sense that it was upon her, not by any means 
upon him, that a favour had been conferred. 

A hundred pounds might possibly suffice to defray 
the cost of cotillon trinkets ; but Mr. Vigors’s guests, 
assembled in the transformed salle-a-manger of his 
hotel on the night of what it pleased him to describe 
as “ a quite informal little hop,” agreed that a bill 
very largely in excess of that sum must await him at 
the hands of his landlord. They found themselves 


INNOCENT FELLOW-SUFFERERS 55 


in a ball-room exquisitely adorned with banks and 
festoons of roses; some of them had had glimpses or 
had heard reports of the supper which was to be 
served at midnight; everybody was saying that if 
the host was not a millionaire, his conduct was worthy 
of one. All Florence, native and foreign, was at a 
function which was destined to become memorable, 
and which was a success from the moment of its 
inception. The only discordant note that reached 
Mrs. Baldwin’s ears, gratified by a chorus of compli- 
ments which seemed to be addressed almost as much 
to her as to Mr. Vigors, came from the Duke of Brank- 
some, who remarked confidentially that in his opinion 
this was rather overdoing things. 

“ All very fine ; but how the deuce can the man 
afford it, you know ? I can only say that if I were 
to go in for such a display as this on my travels, I 
should hear of it from the Duchess ! ” 

“ But Mr. Vigors is a bachelor,” Mrs. Baldwin 
pleaded, a little distressed by this expression of dis- 
approval from an exalted quarter. 

The Duke glanced at her keenly for a moment. 
“ H’m ! — yes,” he assented. “ And I think, if I were 
a marriageable lady, I should be inclined to let him 
remain one.” 

The advice was not needed ; but the fact of its being 
tendered by so courteous a person as the Duke of 
Branksome was both significant and disagreeable. 
Mrs. Baldwin was not averse to being congratulated 
(for anybody was welcome to know that Mr. Vigors 
had had the benefit of her assistance and taste) ; but 
she did not wish to be made too conspicuous and 


56 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


certainly she did not wish to be compromised. She 
said to herself that she would not dance and that she 
would leave rather early. 

As a matter of fact, she had to dance two or three 
times, and of course she could not refuse her host as 
a partner. What she did quite decisively refuse to 
do was to lead the way with him into the supper- 
room. There were ladies of high rank present whose 
right of priority was beyond dispute, and Mr. Vigors 
was compelled to relinquish an inadmissible intention, 
though he did so with great unwillingness. Eventu- 
ally he gave his arm to Princess Monterone, who de- 
clares to the present day that she never sat down to 
a better supper in her life and never had a more charm- 
ing neighbour. She now remembers, although the 
circumstance made little impression upon her at the 
time, that while she was being conducted across the 
hall between a double line of curious, uninvited 
spectators, a man started forward, as if to accost her 
entertainer, but either thought better of his intention 
or was pushed aside. “ And a very good thing that 
he was ! ” says she, with one of her shrill laughs. 
The Princess, indeed, being of a merry and humorous 
disposition, cherishes the entire episode of Mr. Vigors’s 
ball as a diverting one. For the Duke of Branksome 
and Mrs. Baldwin, on the other hand, it must always 
have lugubrious associations, admirably though they 
played their respective parts in saving it from abrupt 
collapse. 

For while preparations for the cotillon were being 
made, and while Mrs. Baldwin was wondering what 
had become of Mr. Vigors, whom she had not seen for 


INNOCENT FELLOW-SUFFERERS 57 


the last quarter of an hour, a note, inscribed “ Private 
and Immediate,” was handed to her, and the dis- 
tressing purport of it was as follows : 

“ Dear Lady — I have this moment received the sad 
news that my poor brother is dangerously ill in Rome, 
and that if I do not hasten to him, I may not see him 
alive. I must leave by the 2 a.m. train, which I have 
just time to catch; but I would not for the world 
break up the party, and, as I have made arrangements 
with Count Vignatelli, who has kindly promised to 
lead the cotillon, I am in hopes that my absence will 
not be noticed at first. Later, no doubt, it will, and 
then I am sure you will be good enough to explain 
and apologise on my behalf. I am telling nobody, 
except you and Branksome. I shall indeed be grate- 
ful to you both if you will consent to act as my re- 
presentatives under these unhappy conditions. I 
trust that I may be able to return to Florence within 
a few days, and I am 

Ever yours, 

G. Vigors.” 

The Duke, who presently joined Mrs. Baldwin, 
opined that they had no choice but to comply with 
their departed host’s request. “ Oh, yes,” he added, 
in answer to certain vexed observations, “ I under- 
stand your feeling; it’s very much my own. One 
doesn’t exactly want to take charge like this and 
advertise oneself as belonging to the man ; still, when 
all’s said, we can’t help it any more than he could. 
And I agree that his guests may as well have their 
fun to the finish.” 


58 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


They had it, and enjoyed it so thoroughly that, as 
Mr. Vigors had foreseen, they only discovered at the 
finish that there was no host for them to thank. 
Then of course there was regretful sympathy ; 
though this found somewhat less fervent utterance 
than appreciation of benefits received. Thus Mrs. 
Baldwin, like the moon after sundown, held pride 
of place in a fair sky, and if prominence which she 
had decided to forgo was thrust upon her, she had 
the consolation of being associated therein with a 
full-blown duke and an unqualified success. 

All successes, as students of history are aware, 
must await, and are for the most part diminished by, 
the qualifications of results. This one, viewed in 
the distant perspective to which it now belongs, 
must be pronounced tolerably complete, so far as Mr. 
Vigors was concerned : as for poor Mrs. Baldwin, she 
was to learn only too soon how very far it was from 
being anything of that kind in her own case. Late 
on the following afternoon she was resting luxuriously 
and unsuspectingly in her darkened salon when in 
marched the Duke of Branksome, with calamity writ 
large upon a long face. He said : 

“ My dear Mrs. Baldwin, I am sorry to tell you 
that I bring most unpleasant news. No use trying 
to break these things gently — the long and the short 
of it is that you and I have been fooled by an un- 
commonly clever and impudent swindler.” 

Mrs. Baldwin flung up her hands to her temples in 
consternation. “ Oh ! ” she ejaculated; “ you can’t 
mean ! ” 

“ That,” answered the Duke, sitting down and 


INNOCENT FELLOW-SUFFERERS 59 


laughing dejectedly, “is just what I do mean, and 
I’m afraid there’s no room for doubt about it. Our 
friend Vigors has decamped. We have telegraphed 
to the Grand Hotel at Rome, which was the address 
he left, and the reply is that nothing is known there 
of him or of his dying brother. The police have been 
informed, and inquiries have been made at the 
railway station, from which it appears that he, or 
somebody like him, booked for Naples last night. 
Not that it matters much what has become of 
him.” 

“ But why,” gasped Mrs. Baldwin — “ why ? . . . . ” 

“ Why have these proceedings been taken ? Well, 
it seems that an Englishman who arrived yesterday 
— a Captain Parker, quite a decent, intelligent sort 
of person — caught sight of Vigors while we were all 
trooping across the hall into the supper-room last 
night. You may remember that there was a little 
crowd of people staying in the hotel who stood and 
stared at us. Parker had only a passing glimpse of 
him, but is certain that he recognised him as a man, 
calling himself Hamilton, who played the same game 
at Malta a year ago that he has been playing here. 
Cut a great dash, borrowed money right and left, 
and then vanished, without saying goodbye. Parker 
ought to have denounced him there and then, you’ll 
say. He admits that he ought ; but he shrank from 
making a scene, and he thought an interview with 
the manager of the hotel this morning would answer 
all necessary purposes. He reckoned without our 
friend’s sharp eyes and sharp wits. Depend upon it. 
Vigors saw him, realised that there was nothing for it 


60 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


but to bolt and acted with the promptitude that we 
know of. A cool-headed, resourceful scamp ! — one 
must allow him to be that. By Parker’s account, he 
has been amusing himself in this style all over Europe 
for years past. It turned out, after his Maltese cam- 
paign, that the so-called Hamilton was wanted by 
the London police on several charges of false pretences 
and one of a forged cheque. Not quite the brightest 
people in the world, the London police; though per- 
haps it hardly becomes us to jeer at them.” 

“ I can’t believe it ! ” moaned the dismayed Mrs. 
Baldwin, shiveringly conscious that she could and 
did. 

“ I wish,” observed the Duke, with a wry smile, 
“ we hadn’t both of us been so ready to believe what 
we might so well have doubted. However, the milk 
is spilt. The milk, in my case, means a couple of 
hundred which that smooth-tongued ruffian got out 
of me to pay a gaming debt. Not to mention the 
cost of his preposterous dance, which I foresee that 
I shall have to defray. I did, unfortunately, allow 
myself to be more or less identified with that festivity. 
I’m not going to pay the jewellers, who have been up 
at the hotel, dancing about and tearing their hair. 
If they choose to take an unknown foreigner at his 
word, that’s their look-out.” 

Mrs. Baldwin’s heart fluttered down into her shoes. 
The unpaid jewellers, the defrauded Duke— what 
need was there of further witness ? Whatever else 
Mr. Vigors might have done or left undone, it was 
proved that he had lied to her. She could only 
murmur bitterly, “ Oh, what a goose I have been 1 ” 


INNOCENT FELLOW-SUFFERERS 61 


“ Well, we’re in the same boat, as far as that goes,” 
remarked the goodhumoured Duke. 

He did not take the affair quite so tragically as 
Mrs. Baldwin did. Perhaps the loss of the money, 
though he might not like it, was no very serious 
matter to him; perhaps he was philosophical enough 
to reflect that honest folks are always liable to be im- 
posed upon, though he might not like that either. 
What really seemed to strike him most forcibly was the 
joke of the whole thing. So simple, so easy ! — need- 
ing nothing for its triumphant accomplishment save 
impudence and audacity. He owned that he was not 
particularly eager for the arrest of the fugitive, who 
doubtless deserved penal servitude, but who had none 
the less deservedly won in repeated contests of wits 
against the world. 

Very different and not nearly so sporting were 
Mrs. Baldwin’s sentiments. She did not consider 
herself vindictive, and might possibly have found it 
in her heart to let a mere thief escape scot-free; but 
never could she forgive a man who had made her a 
public laughing-stock, nor, for the matter of that, 
was she likely to forgive one who must have indulged 
in many a private laugh at her expense. If it had 
rested with her to have Mr. Vigors flogged at the 
cart-tail through the streets of Florence, flogged he 
would have been, and even then she would not have 
held his offence to be adequately purged. Immediate 
vengeance, however, was not to be hers. After some 
days — days which she spent in strict seclusion, admit- 
ting no visitors, except the Duke of Branksome, and 
reducing the exultant and persistent Miss Shakerley 


62 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


to condolences scribbled upon a card — it became 
manifest that the vanishing of Vigors had been as 
deftly executed as the rest of that gentleman’s nefari- 
ous tours de force. The police authorities, who had 
failed to get wind of him, thought it more than 
probable that he had embarked at Naples on one of 
the vessels which daily leave that port; the Duke, 
convinced that there was nothing more to be done, 
announced that he was about to depart for England 
and strongly recommended Mrs. Baldwin to do 
likewise. 

“ Better get out of this,” he frankly said. “ Of 
course we weren’t the fellow’s accomplices; still we 
had, unluckily, the appearance of being his friends, 
and indeed I went so far as to let him give out that he 
was a relation or connection of mine. Which, to be 
sure, may have been true.” 

“You think he really was Mr. Vigors, then ? ” 
asked Mrs. Baldwin, oddly soothed by that admitted 
possibility. 

The Duke shrugged his shoulders. “ God knows ! 
Oh, yes, I shouldn’t be surprised; but I’ll have in- 
vestigations made when I reach home. I daresay 
I have heaps of shady belongings ; most people have. 
At all events, we mustn’t expect much pity, you and 
I, except what we can spare for one another as 
fellow-sufferers and fellow-innocents.” 

Unwittingly he had hit upon the only phrase 
capable of applying a touch of balm to Mrs. Baldwin’s 
sore soul. Since suffer she must, it was something to 
suffer hand in hand with a duke, something to have 
established a bond of union with his Grace which 


INNOCENT FELLOW-SUFFERERS 63 


might lead to future relations of a gratifying order. 
She was not very fond of throwing away money, 
and the thought of her gratuitously wasted hundred 
pounds festered in her memory ; yet she was for sharing 
the cost of the defaulter’s dance, and only allowed 
that intention to be overruled when it was pointed 
out to her that such action would be liable to grave 
misrepresentation, should it be divulged in the course 
of ultimate criminal proceedings. The Duke could 
not take her money ; but he took her hand, pressed 
it paternally, hoped that they might meet in London, 
and so bowed himself out, leaving a most agreeable 
impression behind him. 

Yes; when gains were balanced against losses, 
Mrs. Baldwin found herself, so to speak, a duke to 
the good. Per contra she was a chattering, malevo- 
lent Miss Shakerley — and Heaven only knew how 
many more chatterers, malevolent or compassionate 
— to the bad. No wonder she registered a vow that 
Florence should see her face again no more. Nor 
indeed was it very wonderful that she conceived an 
added prejudice against Paul Lequesne’s 'protege — so 
rashly selected from a disreputable gang of which 
Mr. Vigors and the late Mr. Hilliar must be taken as 
samples ! 


CHAPTER VI 


A VISIT OF INTRODUCTION 

No remonstrance, rebuke or criticism can ever be 
quite so snubbing as abstention from the same, and 
Paul Lequesne certainly did feel a little disappointed 
when a communication which must at least be 
acknowledged to have dealt with matters of consider- 
able moment to him remained unanswered. How- 
ever, he was not as disconsolate as Mrs. Baldwin may 
have hoped to make him. For one thing, he had not 
expected his friend to be pleased, and, for another, 
he was sure that she would be, so soon as the privilege 
of making Guy Hilliar’s acquaintance should be hers. 
In the small circle of those about him pleasure was 
general and genuine ; for it had been no less clear to 
Paul’s dependents than to himself that a change of 
some description was indicated, and they gladly wel- 
comed an interloper whose advent seemed to promise 
fixity of tenure for them. That they also liked the 
boy for his own sake was a matter of course ; from 
infancy up to his present stage of maturity Guy 
Hilliar has always been liked, and sometimes loved, 
for his own sake. Since he hit it off with everybody, 
it was not strange that he should win the heart of a 
man literally starving for lack of human affinities; 

64 


A VISIT OF INTRODUCTION 65 


still it did so happen that he was endowed with 
qualities which made a special appeal in that quarter. 
His pluck, his quick comprehension, his unfailing 
high spirits and the originality of his comments upon 
what was novel to him — all these combined to charm 
one who had himself tasted the joy of life, and who 
very well knew that he could never taste it, unless 
vicariously, again. Even a boy like other small boys 
would have been an immense boon to Paul : the gods 
in plenitude of generosity had granted him something 
altogether out of the common, and he was proportion- 
ately grateful. Perhaps it was over-sanguine of him 
to count upon Mrs. Baldwin as certain to participate 
in his enthusiasm ; but he was not very well versed in 
the peculiarities of women, never having been really 
intimate with more than one. 

In the last days of May his correspondent deigned 
at length to let him hear that she was upon the point 
of leaving Florence; but her letter, which gave the 
scantiest report of her own doings, contained no 
reference to his. She was not feeling particularly 
well, she said, and thought of going to Switzerland 
for a few weeks to recuperate in preparation for the 
fuss and fatigue of London. She mentioned no Swiss 
address; so he was fain to await further tidings, 
which reached him, towards mid-June, from Cromwell 
Road, where Mrs. Baldwin lived. This time she wrote 
in friendlier strain — 

“ Do come and see me soon, and tell me all about 
your eccentric — I am afraid I must call it rather 
hasty and eccentric — adoption of a nobody’s child. 
I, too, have things to tell you — which must account 

F 


66 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


for my long silence. I simply hadn’t the courage to 
embark upon a pen-and-ink record of it all. Oh, no ; 
please don’t jump to conclusions ; I am not going to 
be married again or anything of that sort. Only I 
have had a perfectly sickening experience ! Well, 
I am beginning to get over it now, and you shall hear 
the whole story as soon as it may please you to ap- 
point a day, on which I will, as usual, give orders 
that no other callers are to be admitted. I know you 
generally pay a furtive visit to London about this 
time of year.” 

He generally did ; and Mrs. Baldwin’s missive 
decided him to accelerate what had hitherto always 
meant for him the envisagement of a painful ordeal. 
Painful it was bound to be ; nevertheless, the presence 
of the eager, observant Guy so changed the whole 
aspect of things that the Chester Square house, 
terribly unchanged though it was, had almost the 
effect of having put on a new face for him. In the 
familiar rooms, already faded and ineffably forlorn, 
the conviction came to Paul that if Maud could see 
him with this improbable pis-aller of his, she would 
be relieved and approving. She could no more see 
him than he could see her ; she had ceased to be ; never 
again could their eyes meet or their voices greet one 
another. If he was certain of anything, he was 
certain of that. Yet in some sense — even in a very 
real one — she would continue to exist so long as he 
drew breath and retained his faculties. Therefore 
he thanked God (for he had faith in a God, if scarcely 
in the anthropomorphic Deity of the Hebrews or the 
Christians,) that there had been found for him a way 


A VISIT OF INTRODUCTION 67 


of reconciliation with life which involved no shadow 
of infidelity to her beloved memory. 

Now it was quite natural that a man situated as 
he was should be anxious to enlist for Guy the good 
will of his only woman friend, and it was just like him 
— though perhaps it would not have been like anybody 
else — to take the boy round to Cromwell Road on the 
occasion of a visit which obviously demanded privacy. 
Mrs. Baldwin’s hurried greeting, followed immedi- 
ately by a dismayed whisper of “ Good gracious ! 
you’ve brought it with you, then ! ” only moved him 
to mild surprise. 

“ Why, of course ! ” was his rejoinder. 

Then he beckoned to Guy, who, from a few paces 
in the rear, was taking rapid stock of Mrs. Baldwin’s 
artistic drawingroom, and said : “ Come along and 
be introduced to my best friend. She is going to be 
one of your best friends also, I hope.” 

Mrs. Baldwin’s expression of countenance hardly 
seemed to warrant the anticipation. Murmuring 
“ How do you do ? ” she extended a small, white 
hand, which the boy grasped in his strong, brown 
one. 

“ All right, thanks,” he responded pleasantly. 
“You have got a jolly lot of roses here ! Do you 
grow ’em yourself or buy ’em in the market ? ” 

A half-involuntary smile hovered for a moment 
about the lips of a lady who liked the prettiness of 
her environment to be appreciated, yet who had no 
notion of being rushed into intimacies. She replied 
that she had a little garden of her own in the country, 
but that she was afraid she could not pretend to be 


68 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


wholly independent of the florist. She then moved 
quickly towards one of the windows, asked Paul’s 
help in opening it and took occasion to say, under 
her breath : 

“ It’s too tiresome of you ! How can we possibly 
talk now ? The young gentleman’s dignity would be 
affronted if one suggested his having tea in the 
nursery, I suppose ? ” 

“ I forgot about our wanting to have a talk,” Paul 
not very tactfully confessed. “ Oh, no ; I don’t think 
he’d mind.” 

He did not mind in the least. His wit was quite 
equal to the conjecture that he might be temporarily 
de trop, and of tact he had an innate supply which 
had been denied to his patron. “Yes, rather ! ” was 
his prompt response to Paul’s hesitating inquiry of 
whether he wouldn’t like to go upstairs and make 
acquaintance with a very small girl. 

“ I can always get on with kiddies,” he added 
reassuringly for the benefit of his hostess. 

With whom could he not get on ? Even the semi- 
hostile Mrs. Baldwin had to own, after the bell had 
been rung and he had been conducted out of the 
room, that there was something rather engaging in 
the ease and simplicity of his address. However, 
she made haste to qualify that admission by adding : 

“ Oddly advanced for his years, though. Con- 
sidering his parentage and all, that would make me 
a little uneasy if I were in your place. But I’m afraid 
it’s too late to wave red flags at you.” 

“ Much too late,” Paul assented. “ I’m fully com- 
mitted to him, and I’m not a bit uneasy. In reality 


A VISIT OF INTRODUCTION 69 


he isn’t what you call ‘ advanced ’ ; he is only that 
rarest and most delightful phenomenon, an absolutely 
natural human being. I don’t quite know what you 
mean about his parentage.” 

Mrs. Baldwin was divided between eagerness to 
explain what she meant and reluctance to avow that 
her information was derived from a somewhat tainted 
source. She said : 

“ Well, you yourself wrote that his father didn’t 
seem to have been a very estimable sort of person, 
and what I have heard since makes me strongly 
suspect that he was downright dishonest.” 

The associate and probable confederate of Mr. 
Vigors could hardly have been anything else; but 
Mrs. Baldwin gradually forgot him while denouncing 
the man who had so grievously sinned against her. 
Although, during the progress of her graphic narra- 
tive, Paul was more than once shaken by a spasm 
of internal laughter, he kept his countenance duly 
grave and sympathising until she wound up with — 

“ And the disgusting part of it is that there seems 
to be no prospect of this wretched impostor’s being 
arrested.” 

At this it seemed permissible to smile. “ Is his 
arrest so desirable ? ” Paul inquired. “ I should 
have thought that the less publicity given to his 
feats the better you would be pleased.” 

“ Ah, that’s what the Duke says. Certainly I 
shouldn’t like to have to give evidence at the Old 
Bailey, or wherever it is ; but I don’t suppose I should 
be called. He would be tried for one of his previous 
offences — forgery, I believe, amongst others. By 


70 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


the way, the Duke, who was here a few days ago, 
has had inquiries made of different members of the 
Vigors family, and they are dreadfully ashamed and 
distressed, as well they may be ! They didn’t know 
about the forgery or about his having swindled people 
in Malta; but they don’t deny that he is capable of 
anything. He appears to have been their black 
sheep. They had to drop him years ago, and they 
rather hoped he might be dead. Perhaps you’ll 
think me ridiculous, but the fact that he is a gentle- 
man by birth does give me just a scrap of comfort. 
And the Duke, you see, was as completely taken in 
as I was.” 

Paul, who was acquainted with his friend’s little 
weaknesses, could well believe that these two cir- 
cumstances were of a nature to appease her. He 
observed that the delinquent was pretty sure to be 
laid by the heels sooner or later. 

“ He’ll tempt the Fates once too often, as such 
people always do, and then you’ll get your revenge, 
since you’re so keen upon it. My personal feeling 
is that if he and Hilliar were tarred with the same 
brush, which seems very likely, I am better off than 
the Vigors family, inasmuch as my black sheep has 
the merit of being as dead as mutton.” 

“ But he wasn’t yours at all ! Nothing in the 
world compelled you to make a pet of a black 
lamb.” 

“ Nothing compelled me ; everything induced me. 
Don’t you understand— but I needn’t put the ques- 
tion, for I’m sure you do — that what I have done is 
going to be my salvation ? ” 


A VISIT OF INTRODUCTION 71 


Mrs. Baldwin shook her head and made a dubious 
grimace. The salvation of the heavy-hearted may 
be achieved by less hazardous devices. Mt^reover, 
she must not be expected to bestow her blessing upon 
a venture as to the wisdom or folly of which her 
opinion had not been so much as asked. 

“ One can only hope for the best,” said she, “ but, 
look at it how you will, it’s a leap in the dark. And 
I’m by no means sure that I like that precocity 
which evidently fascinates you.” 

“You will like it,” Paul returned, “ as soon as you 
realise that it means nothing more nor less than an 
unusually perfect condition of mental and bodily 
health. Hale, who has taken his education in hand, 
says he’ll be fit for school in no time.” 

“ Well, I’m glad, at any rate, that you are sending 
him to school and letting a clergyman prepare him,” 
said Mrs. Baldwin, who was herself orthodox, even 
to the extent of observing Saints’ days when she 
remembered them. 

“ Did you think I should preach agnosticism to 
him ? ” Paul asked. 

“ I don’t know why you shouldn’t preach what you 
profess to believe.” 

“ Agnosticism isn’t a profession of belief.” 

“ That’s so absurd ! As if anybody could get on 
without a creed of some sort ! Not that yours would 
satisfy anybody but yourself. And why did you 
drag the boy up to London with you, instead of 
leaving him to pursue his studies with your good 
Mr. Hale ? ” 

“ A little because he wants clothes, but much more 


72 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


because I want you to take to him and be good to 
him. Come, Lilian, you will be good to him and me, 
won’t you ? ” 

Every now and then Paul addressed Mrs. Baldwin 
by her Christian name, and this always conciliated 
her. For the rest, she was not very hard to conciliate, 
belonging, as she did, to that preponderant class of 
mortals who habitually and sensibly acquiesce in 
what cannot be helped. It was plain that, for good 
or for ill, this boy was to be an established factor in 
the development of Paul Lequesne’s unfolding future ; 
so that, whether one liked or disliked him, one must 
reckon with him. To like him was to take the line 
of least resistance, and Mrs. Baldwin smiled graciously 
enough as she answered : 

“ My dear Paul, I hope you know that all I wish 
is to be allowed to give you any small help I can. 
If you rather took my breath away at first, you can 
hardly wonder, can you ? It’s a serious matter, you 
see, to announce all of a sudden that you have provided 
yourself with a son and heir. Because I suppose 
that’s what you mean him to be.” 

“ Well, no,” replied Paul, after a moment of silence, 
“lam not quite prepared to make such an announce- 
ment at this early stage. I don’t see why I should, 
and there are manifest reasons why I shouldn’t. 
Still, between ourselves, that looks like the probable 
outcome.” 

Mrs. Baldwin had a nimble imagination. It now 
took a bold step into futurity and caused her to say : 

Then 1 11 tell you what we’ll do. We’ll marry him 
to Audrey one of these days. That is if he behaves 


A VISIT OF INTRODUCTION 73 


himself and turns out the paragon that I know you 
expect him to be. For the present I should think 
he has had about as much of the bride-elect’s company 
as he can do with, poor little wretch ! So I’ll ring 
and give orders for his release.” 


CHAPTER VII 


THE ADULTS 

On a fine afternoon of early summer, some fifteen 
years after the occurrence of the episodes narrated 
in the foregoing chapters, two young men and a girl 
were seated on the closely mown turf of a lawn which 
sloped gently down towards the glittering Thames. 
They had just stepped out of the punt which lay 
moored to the landing-steps hard by, and they sup- 
plied (or, at any rate, two of them did) a highly 
decorative foreground to what, despite steam-launches 
and disfiguring trippers, still remains one of the most 
charming landscapes in England. For the hanging 
woods beyond the river were in the full glory of their 
June foliage, and immediately behind the little group 
were borders gay with roses and irises and herbaceous 
plants, behind which again the middle distance was 
filled after a fashion pleasant enough to the eye by 
a long, rambling building, the white walls of which 
were more than half masked in creepers. But the 
three persons thus attractively framed were not for 
the moment appreciative of scenery, their attention 
being otherwise engaged. Each of them was gravely 
perusing the acting edition of a play, and the knitted 
brows and slightly dilated nostrils of one of them 
74 


THE ADULTS 


75 


seemed to imply that the study afforded her small 
satisfaction. 

“ I don’t want to be disagreeable,” she remarked, 
“ but I must say that this strikes me as a perfectly 
rotten piece ! ” 

“ I respectfully beg to associate myself with that 
expression of opinion,” observed the young man who 
lay prone at her feet, a pipe in his mouth and his chin 
supported by his left hand. “Not that it matters.” 

“ It may not matter to t/ou,” the girl rejoined, with 
some warmth. “ Perhaps you don’t mind all this 
nauseous hugging and kissing.” 

“ At duty’s call, I’m prepared to go through with 
it.” 

“ Well, I’m not. So if I’m to act at all, Mr. Cle- 
land, you’ll have to cut out at least three quarters of 
the love scenes, please.” 

The third member of the party, who was squatting 
upon his crossed heels, like a Turk, chuckled. He 
was broad-shouldered, but of diminutive stature, and 
had a quaintly humorous face which must be called 
ugly, in default of a more fitting adjective, though it 
could never have been described as repellent. His 
nose turned up absurdly, his wide mouth ap- 
proached the lobes of his jutting ears, he had small, 
twinkling eyes and his straight, dust-coloured hair 
persisted in falling over his forehead, notwithstanding 
daily efforts at bringing it into conformity with the 
prevailing fashion of a greasy, brushed-back sheaf. 
He said remonstratingly : 

“ My dear Miss Baldwin, there’s nothing in reason 
that I wouldn’t do to oblige you; but you and Guy 


76 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


are cast for the lovers, don’t you see, and some realistic 
touches are indispensable. I feel for you both; I do 
indeed ! I can imagine how you’ll hate it. Still you 
must be brave. Consider the audience.” 

“ Bother the audience ! ” said Miss Baldwin. 

“ That’s just what you’ll do, unless you throw your- 
self into your part. They won’t be able to make head 
or tail of the play, poor things ! And it isn’t half a 
bad play really. You can’t judge of any play by 
reading it; you won’t be in a position to judge even 
when you’re acting in it as splendidly as I know you 
will. It’s the people on the other side of the foot- 
lights who will do the judging, and you may depend 
upon it that they’ll simply revel in the scenes you want 
to omit.” 

“ I doubt it,” returned the young lady; “ I doubt 
very much whether they will be given the chance of 
revelling by me.” 

“ Oh, you couldn’t have the heart to desert us ! 
As I tell you, you and Guy have all my sympathy, 
but . . .” 

“ Don’t worry about me,” interjected the other 
young man ; “ I’m beginning to think that I shall 
rather enjoy it.” 

“ Ah, that’s your politeness. I was going to say 
that I quite understand a natural mutual repugnance ; 
but you can get rid of all that by bearing in mind that 
you’re purely fictitious. Take example by me. 
What I’m called upon to do is to play the fool — a part, 
as you know, utterly foreign to my nature. But do I 
kick ? Do I lay back my ears and threaten to cut the 
whole concern ? Nothing of the sort ! I remember 


THE ADULTS 


77 


that my sole business is to make things go as well 
as I can, and if anybody takes me for a genuine fool, 
I shall accept that as a tribute to the excellence of my 
acting.” 

“ Nobody,” said Miss Baldwin, “ is likely to mistake 
Guy and me for genuine lovers, and we shouldn’t care 
if anybody did. It isn’t the stage embraces that I 
object to, it’s the mawkish imbecility of the whole 
thing.” 

An uninformed bystander might have wondered 
why the speaker and the youth who lay at her feet 
were not lovers ; for if appearances are anything to go 
by, they should have found it no hard matter to be 
that. With the fair hair and exquisite complexion 
which she had inherited from her mother and with 
the violet eyes which were all her own, Audrey Bald- 
win at the age of nineteen was fit to pass a very high 
standard of feminine beauty. Her broad forehead, 
her straight little nose, her white teeth and her neat 
figure were so many admirable accessories. The sum 
total of her, in fact, came almost as near perfection as 
young Cleland, for one, was ready to pronounce it. 
As for Guy Hilliar, the acknowledged perfection of him 
at all points and in all capacities was only preserved 
from exasperating a generation of imperfect con- 
temporaries by the indescribable ease and grace with 
which he carried so heavy a handicap. Neither at 
Eton nor at Oxford had he made for himself a single 
enemy; which was remarkable, considering that at 
both those seats of learning and sport he had accom- 
plished without effort everything to which he had 
seen fit to turn his ever roving attention. He had 


78 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


not, it was true, touched absolute high-water mark 
in any particular branch — had not been Captain of 
the Boats or the Eleven at Eton and had been content 
to dispense with first-class honours at the University. 
Notoriously, however, this was not because he could 
not have been or done anything that had pleased him, 
but merely by reason of a disinclination on his part 
to specialise. He liked to make sure that he could do 
this or that (invariably discovering that he could); 
after which others were welcome to stick to the job 
and bear away the prize. Naturally, such an attitude 
was not without attractiveness for the others : one 
readily admits a man to be one’s superior when he 
refrains from proving himself so. Moreover, Guy was 
free from vanity, and if inevitably self-confident, was 
never self-assertive. Physically, the sturdy little boy 
who had taken Paul Lequesne’s fancy fifteen years 
back had ripened into something much finer than could 
have been anticipated at that early stage in his 
development. The white boating flannels and sweater 
in which he was now clad were not very well adapted 
to display the singularly symmetrical lines of his slim 
body and limbs, though these could be divined; but 
they gave value to the poise of his lean head upon a 
bare, muscular neck. His hair and eyes were dark 
and his features refined, their expression varying 
from moment to moment, as is often the way with 
people of alert intelligence. Altogether a young man 
of such conquering aspect and attributes that the 
strictly sisterly affection professed for him by his 
neighbour was scarcely to be accounted for, unless 
by the fact that they had grown up together in rela- 


THE ADULTS 


79 


tions not unlike those of brother and sister. Audrey’s 
strong and frequently proclaimed detestation of senti- 
mentality in any shape or form may have been a 
secondary cause, although Walter Cleland, a keen- 
eyed observer, had no great belief in that. 

“You can’t,” he objected, answering her last remark, 
“ have a novel or a play without any love-making, 
and in a play it’s bound to be rather raw, or it 
won’t carry conviction. You wouldn’t call this one 
mawkish if you were looking on at it.” 

“ I’ll look on then,” said the young lady decisively. 

But it was at once pointed out to her by both her 
companions that this would be a peculiarly base and 
shabby form of treachery. Time was short, there 
had been considerable difficulty in obtaining promises 
of co-operation, and the worst possible effect would be 
produced upon an already refractory band of amateur 
histrions if it had to be announced that Miss Baldwin 
had thrown up the leading part in disgust. 

“ Oh, very well,” she sighed resignedly at length; 
“ if I must, I must ! Of course I’ll do my best to 
please, though I shan’t be much pleased with anybody 
who thinks me pleasing in such a character. All we 
can hope for is that Mr. Cleland, as the funny man, will 
draw off attention from our dri veilings.” 

“ He will,” said Guy. “ Heaven be praised, he’ll 
completely and mercifully eclipse the lot of us ! 
That’s what he’s for. In point of fact, that’s what 
your good mother is giving the show for.” 

“ Is it ? ” asked Audrey. “ I thought it was because 
nobody else would attempt to get up private theatri- 
cals in London at this time of year, and because 


80 PAUL’S PARAGON 

it’s so original to do things that other people aren’t 
doing.” 

“ She may be under that impression, but the true 
truth is that she has been hypnotically suggestionised 
by that little fiend Wattie, who doesn’t care how much 
suffering he inflicts upon others so long as he can 
secure one more low-comedy triumph for himself.” 

Walter Cleland turned up the whites of his eyes 
and groaned. “Here’s gratitude!” he ejaculated; 
“ here’s recognition of self-sacrifice ! You needn’t 
believe me unless you like, Miss Baldwin, but I owe 
it to myself to tell you that I’m only here now — 
neglecting my business and displeasing my old 
governor, who quite rightly thinks I ought to be on 
a high stool in the Liverpool office — by Guy’s express 
request.” 

“ I believe you,” said the girl. 

“ Thanks ; I expected no less of your discrimination. 
For reasons of his own, into which I needn’t enter, he 
made a great point of my being in London for a few 
weeks just now, and as I really didn’t see how that 
was to be contrived without some sort of a plausible 
excuse, he trotted out the idea of theatricals and 
rehearsals. He did indeed ! Let him deny it if he 
dares ! ” 

Guy did not deny it. He laughed and returned, 
“ Well, I didn’t choose the play, anyhow, and I 
didn’t persuade Mrs. Baldwin that she wanted to 
produce it upon her Cromwell Road stage either. 
Don’t depreciate yourself, Wattie; you’ve done it all 
very cleverly, and Mrs. Baldwin has a high opinion 
of you, and so have I. As for your rotten piece, it’s 


THE ADULTS 


81 


a rotten piece, as aforesaid ; but — likewise as aforesaid 
— that doesn’t matter. You’ll bring down the house, 
as you always do, while Audrey and I are blushing 
unseen beneath our grease and paint.” 

At Oxford young Cleland had achieved fame as a 
comic actor and private popularity by his gift of 
mimicry and other diverting qualities. His friendship 
with Guy Hilliar, which dated from old Eton days, 
was an affair of enthusiastic hero-worship on the one 
side and amused liking on the other. Such as it was, 
it had stood the test of time and, as one result of it, 
Walter had long ago been made acquainted with Mrs. 
Baldwin and her daughter. The son of a prosperous 
Liverpool shipowner, he had been taken into his 
father’s business on the termination of his University 
career; so that he did not seem likely to be as often 
seen as of yore in South Kensington or at Weir Cottage, 
which was the name of Mrs. Baldwin’s riverside 
dwelling between Maidenhead and Marlow. He was, 
however, in no danger of being dropped by that lady, 
who not only recognised his social value but was 
accustomed to make free use of him as a species of 
unpaid secretary or aide-de-camp. Presently her 
high, clear voice was heard calling out to him from the 
verandah — 

“ Mr. Cleland ! Are you there ? I want you to 
come and help me with my invitation-cards.” 

He scrambled to his feet and trotted off obediently. 
His unfailing readiness to fetch and carry for Mrs. 
Baldwin was accepted by her as a matter of course 
and one of which the causes required no investigation. 
She had not guessed — but would have been neither 

G 


82 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


astonished nor alarmed if she had — that it was due 
to an absolutely hopeless adoration of her daughter. 
Whatever matrimonial alliance Audrey might end by 
making, (and Audrey was vexatiously reticent or 
indifferent upon that subject,) she certainly would not 
espouse poor little Walter Cleland. 

At six-and-forty Mrs. Baldwin differed as little from 
her former self as the passage of fifteen summers and 
winters would permit. She had grown stoutish, the 
colour had faded out of her hair and the outline of 
her chin had assumed an added curve; but her face 
was scarcely lined, there having been so few events to 
furrow it since that unfortunate and well-nigh for- 
gotten Florentine episode which had marred the early 
days of her independence. Her independence was one 
of several possessions which she had wisely retained ; 
another being her friendship with Paul Lequesne. If 
she also still retained some sense of latent grievance 
against that unassailable celibate, it was partially 
merged in a more recent one against Guy Hilliar, who 
had falsified anticipation by declining to lose his 
heart to Audrey. The new grievance was precisely on 
all fours with the old, inasmuch as Audrey could, of 
course, make a far better match. There was no 
reason for her marrying young Hilliar ; only it was a 
sort of slight upon her and a display of bad manners 
in him that she had not been asked to do so. 

“ I’ve had my work cut out to save your play from 
foundering,” Walter Cleland remarked, as he climbed 
the flight of steps which gave access to the verandah. 
“ Miss Baldwin wanted to chuck it because she 
couldn’t stand the love scenes.” 


THE ADULTS 


83 


“ I call that such a silly kind of modern affectation ! ” 
cried Mrs. Baldwin impatiently. “ Nowadays girls 
don’t put it on the ground of shyness or modesty, like 
their grandmothers, who may have been just as 
affected in a more human fashion; they want people 
to believe that they despise what no woman has ever 
despised since the world began or ever will.” 

“ Only nobody does believe it,” the young man 
observed. 

“ That’s what I say ; that’s the silliness of the pose. 
I hope you figuratively boxed Audrey’s ears.” 

“ I can’t see myself doing that, even figuratively. 
No ; I condoled with her and Guy ; I told them I could 
quite imagine how unpleasant it would be for them 
both. But I appealed to their public spirit.” 

“ Really,” said Mrs. Baldwin, with a little toss of 
her head, “ I can’t see why it should be so unpleasant.” 

“ Between ourselves,” returned Walter Cleland, 
with much gravity, “ nor can I. Still one has to 
allow for other people’s ways of looking at things. 
And it’s all the more easy when, as you say, they are 
only make-believe ways, which don’t make one 
believe.” 

Mrs. Baldwin was aware that this jocular youth was 
almost always laughing at somebody, and occasionally 
— at the wrong moment, as a rule — she half suspected 
him of the audacity of laughing at her. She now 
threw him a sharp glance, was reassured by the 
solemnity of his countenance, and said : 

“ Well, come and address envelopes for me. We 
shall only just save the post.” 

Audrey was never asked to address envelopes or 


84 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


remember where people lived or revise her mother’s 
list. For sueh purposes she was useless, her tastes 
from childhood having taken a different turn. 

“ What a bore it is to be grown-up ! ” she was 
saying at that moment to Guy Hilliar. “We used 
to have much better fun than we shall ever have again, 
don’t you think so ? ” 

“ In some ways,” he assented. “ Oh, yes, we 
haven’t had a bad time, and I shouldn’t mind repeat- 
ing the dose. One has to keep moving, though. 
One wants to have a shot at new experiences, even 
if they aren’t going to be an improvement upon the 
old ones.” 

“ I don’t. But then there are so few novelties — 
practically only one — that women are allowed to 
aim at. It’s a different story, of course, for men, who 
can choose any career they like for themselves. 
Which reminds me to ask whether you are any nearer 
a choice than you were.” 

“ Much nearer. In fact, I’ve made it, subject to 
my old man’s consent. I’m going to join the firm of 
Cleland and Son.” 

The girl stared at him in amazed incredulity. “ A 
firm of Liverpool shipowners ! — you ! ” 

“ Why not ? It will be tremendously interesting 
as soon as one gets the hang of the thing, which I shall 
do in less than a year. I was staying in Liverpool 
last week with Wattie’s people, as you know, and I 
very soon saw all the possibilities of their business. 
It ought to be capable of immense expansion.” 

“ But what if it is ? What if you immensely 
expand it and make a fortune ? I should have 


THE ADULTS 


85 


thought money-grubbing was the last thing you would 
care to go in for.” 

The young fellow laughed. Four-and-twenty 
though he was, his laughter had not yet lost its boyish 
ring. “ I’m not keen about money,” he answered, 
“ and I have no wish to grub. I can’t tell you exactly 
why this notion seemed to draw me, except that it 
promises quicker results than the professions. The 
army, the bar, diplomacy — one knows what they may 
lead to, with patience and perseverance and luck. 
But all so deadly slow ! What’s the use of being a 
Field-Marshal or a Lord Chancellor or an Ambassador 
when you’re old and worn out ? What’s the use of 
getting to the top of the tree if you’re only ready to 
drop off it, like an over-ripe apple, and be swept 
away ? ” 

“You might enjoy yourself on the way up ; I can’t 
picture you enjoying yourself in a fusty counting- 
house. Did old Mr. Cleland suggest taking you into 
his business ? ” 

“ Not he ! He threw cold water upon me, and so 
did Wattie. But I talked them over.” 

“ You would ! And will Mr. Lequesne be talked 
over, do you suppose ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, dear old chap ! He won’t fancy the idea 
at first — perhaps not at last either — but he won’t be 
obstinate about it. He never is.” 

“ Never with you,” the girl agreed meditatively. 
“ It’s a wonder he hasn’t spoilt you altogether.” 

“ Thanks awfully for the admission that he hasn’t. 
But I really believe indulgence is the best kind of 
treatment for me. You might give it a trial some- 


86 PAUL’S PARAGON 

times, as an alternative to the usual snubbing 
system.” 

‘‘ Kindly mention a single instance of my having 
snubbed you.” 

“ I’ll kindly mention a dozen if you like. You 
started that bad habit no less than five years ago, 
when I took great trouble to split a sixpence and when 
you instantly chucked the half which you were meant 
to cherish for ever into the river.” 

“ I forgot about the split sixpence,” said Audrey, 
laughing. “Yes, I suppose you did feel a little bit 
snubbed at the time ; but that sort of rubbish had to 
be nipped in the bud.” 

“ So you were pleased to decree.” 

“ Oh, you were pleased too. You didn’t really 
want to begin ‘ keeping company,’ in accordance with 
servants’-hall traditions ; you only tried it on because 
it had dawned upon you that you were a young man 
and that I was almost a young woman. As I said just 
now, being grown-up is an unmitigated bore. The 
next thing will be that you’ll be marrying somebody, 
and the chances are that I shall hate her.” 

“ Much more likely that you’ll marr}^ somebody 
whom I shall be sure to hate.” 

“ No ; you were never known to hate anybody. At 
the bottom of your heart you don’t think anybody 
quite worth hating. Now, isn’t that true ? ” 

“ I don’t know ; but I know it’s one more snub. 
Why are you in such a critical humour this evening ? ” 

“You can’t expect me to be in a flattering humour. 
I don’t like your throwing yourself away upon a 
commercial career; I think you’re making a great 


THE ADULTS 


87 


mistake. Not that you will be moved an inch by 
what I think.” 

“ Well, you haven’t had time to think a great deal 
about it yet, have you ? ” 

“ I shouldn’t change my opinion if I were to think 
about it from now till Christmas.” 

“ All right ! Tell me to give the thing up, and it 
shall be given up like a shot. You have only to speak 
the word.” 

Disdaining response to so extravagant an assertion, 
Audrey rose and shook out her skirt. “ I’m going to 
dress for dinner,” she announced laconically. 


CHAPTER VIII 

* IN LOCO PARENTIS ’ 

Paul Lequesne sat at his writing-table in Chester 
Square with a blank folio sheet of paper before him 
and an idle pen between his fingers. He had, as he 
always had, an apportioned daily task of literary work 
to get through, but was taking, as he sometimes took, 
the liberty to neglect it. Blessed liberty which 
belongs to the race of scribes alone amongst pro- 
fessional toilers, and which, let us hope, makes up to 
them for the precarious, ill-paid nature of their calling ! 
This one, at all events, had not to concern himself 
much with questions of remuneration or publication, 
being pecuniarily independent, as well as celebrated 
enough to be sure of his limited audience. The fifteen 
years which had turned his hair and beard grey had 
firmly established his reputation as a philosophical 
essayist, a polished, if infrequent versifier, and an 
accomplished critic. He was known by name to 
all the world, read by a small section of it and re- 
spectfully entreated by a far larger one. A success, 
in fine, as successes go, and by no means dissatisfied 
with a life which had given him his full share of good 
things. He had not asked of it what it could not give, 
had never quite shaken off the settled melancholy 
bequeathed to him by a dead past ; yet, now that he 
88 


‘IN LOCO PARENTIS’ 


89 


was deep in middle age, he remained strong and 
active, and if he had no vestige of personal ambition 
left, he had plenty of it for the young man who was 
coming home presently. 

A most undeniable, unqualified success, that young 
man, whether you took him broadly on his merits or 
in a more restricted sense as having fulfilled the 
mission assigned to him by Providence and a lone 
benefactor. Looking back, Paul could truly and 
proudly affirm that from first to last the boy had 
given him no single hour of anxiety, save of that 
pleasurable kind which had preceded the news of some 
fresh victory, scholastic or athletic. And what was even 
better was that there had been no slackening of the 
bonds which united two mortals so unusually devoid 
of other domestic ties. None, that is, in their mutual 
affection and only as much in their close intimacy 
as one of them deemed inevitable. Paul Lequesne, 
scarcely a man of the world in the common acceptation 
of that term, but sensible and acquainted with the 
various, unvarying attributes of adult human nature, 
had recognised that a time must come when the boy 
would cease to tell him everything and had determined 
that, when it came, he on his side would cease to ask 
questions. Perhaps this was wise of him, and it was 
certainly self-denying (for he liked it even less than 
the average father likes it) ; yet he pushed a salutary 
rule to somewhat greater lengths than he need have 
done, and the result was a sense of restraint, not to 
mention an occasional twinge of pain, which he might 
just as well have spared himself. For Guy, free to 
come and go as he pleased, free to make his own plans 


90 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


and choose his own future, was not at all prone to 
secretiveness. Sometimes he forgot to mention what 
he had been about; sometimes a disappointing tele- 
gram would come from him at the last moment to 
announce, without explanation, that he could not 
turn up for an arranged shoot or a day’s fishing ; but 
he never thought of taking a step of any consequence 
without consulting Paul, nor had he ever made any 
concealment of the very few and venial scrapes in 
which Oxford had involved him. During this month 
of June he had been staying with sundry friends, 
ending up with a short visit to the Baldwins at Weir 
Cottage ; now he proposed to devote several weeks to 
London and — incidentally — to the definite, oft post- 
poned selection of an avocation. 

Paul’s grave face lightened up all over when a han- 
som stopped at the front door, which his study window 
commanded, and a minute later he was shaking hands 
with the subject of a whole empty afternoon’s medita- 
tions. All he said was “ Well, Guy ? ” and the other 
only responded with “ Well, old man ? ” But the 
English tongue, as employed by two Englishmen who 
are in affinity is beautifully comprehensive and com- 
prehensible. 

The new-comer rang the bell, ordered tea, flung him- 
self sideways into an easy-chair, with his legs dangling 
over one of the arms, and (being bound by no self- 
denying ordinance in that respect) began to ask 
questions. Quite intelligent, well-informed questions, 
relating to recent learned controversies ; for he was a 
rapid, omnivorous reader and had, amongst his other 
gifts, a sound literary instinct. He said : 


‘ IN LOCO PARENTIS ’ 


91 


“ I simply roared over that article of yours on 
Nietzsche. The only thing I was afraid of was that 
they mightn’t see you were laughing at them all the 
time.” 

“ But I wasn’t,” Paul protested. 

“ Oh, come ! Tell that to somebody else. But you 
were jolly polite and deferential, as you always are, 
and I daresay they took some of your compliments 
literally. I say, you’ve been sitting indoors and 
stooping over your blotting-book too much; you 
want me to drag you out into the fresh air. Let’s 
have a day up the river, shall we ? Wattie Cleland 
and I have been putting in a couple of nights at Weir 
Cottage, and we should have had a firstrate time if it 
hadn’t been for some infernal theatricals which Mrs. 
Baldwin is getting up and in which we’re all booked 
to make fools of ourselves.” 

He went on chattering discursively, as was his wont 
in the society of a hearer who was always content to 
listen to him. It was not until he had finished his 
tea and lighted a pipe that he announced : 

“ Well, now I’ve got some news for you, and you 
aren’t going to like it, though I hope you aren’t going 
to mind it very acutely either, after the first shock. 
I’ve hit upon my calling. Clerk in the firm of Cleland 
and Son, with the virtual promise of being speedily 
taken into partnership. Say ‘ Damn ! ’ if you want to.” 

Paul did not avail himself of the accorded permis- 
sion. He said nothing at all, but looked as surprised 
and dismayed as he felt. 

“ Oh, yes, I know ! ” Guy resumed, answering un- 
uttered comments. “ At that rate, what becomes of 


92 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


public life and distinction and office and so forth ? 
Well, they aren’t excluded, supposing they’re what 
one ought to want and aim at — which, after all, isn’t 
mathematically demonstrated. The House of Com- 
mons is just as likely to open its doors to a prominent 
shipowner as to a successful barrister, and if Cleland 
and Son aren’t prominent in a few years’ time it won’t 
be the junior partner’s fault. I had no idea until I was 
in Liverpool last week what chances lie waiting for 
an enterprising firm to collar them. Dear old Cleland 
has spent an active and blameless life with his eyes 
serenely closed.” 

“ I daresay you opened them for him,” Paul 
remarked. 

“ Rather ! He’s wide awake now and as keen as a 
man who has begun to think about retiring has it in 
him to be. Oh, I don’t say that he doesn’t shake his 
head; you couldn’t expect him to do anything else 
just at first. But he does see that his business is 
open to development, and he sees that what it chiefly 
wants is fresh blood.” 

“ Fresh capital too, I presume.” 

“ Naturally that will be needed, and I don’t suppose 
an empty-handed partner would quite meet his views. 
But those are matters of detail which you can talk 
over with him. He’s coming up to London on pur- 
pose to see you.” 

This might have struck some people as a pretty cool 
way of taking things for granted ; but Paul, who was 
accustomed to Guy’s wide purview and magnificent 
disregard of preliminaries, had a different aspect of 
the case in mind. He said : 


‘IN LOCO PARENTIS’ 


93 


“ It’s an experiment like another, and all experi- 
ments are interesting. The trouble is that we are 
debarred by the brevity of life from making more than 
one, or possibly two, of this particular kind. Just 
now, but only just now, you can choose between a 
number of professions and trades. It’s rather im- 
portant that you shouldn’t choose the wrong one.” 

“ Beastly important — and a shot at a venture, 
whatever one’s choice may be. There you are ! 
How is a man to tell whether he’ll like or dislike a 
thing that he hasn’t tried ? All I know is that I 
dislike slow progress, and the professions are very, 
very slow. Commerce isn’t. It leaps and bounds 
gaily when you give it the spur at the psychological 
moment.” 

“ I daresay it does ; only that doesn’t cover the 
whole ground. You may go ahead with relative 
speed and yet have to give your best years to unre- 
mitting office work. How about the minor pleasures 
of life, which I think you appreciate as much as any- 
body ? Isn’t there some danger of your missing 
them ? ” 

“ Ah, that’s Audrey’s way of looking at it.” 

“ Audrey has sensible ways of looking at things. 
You have spoken to her, then ? ” 

The young man nodded. “ I always do, you know. 
I told her I’d chuck the whole concern if she liked. 
Which put her back up, though it was perfectly 
true.” 

What Guy’s sentiments were respecting Audrey 
Paul had never been able to determine with certainty. 
He knew, because he could not help knowing, that 


94 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


Audrey had only a friendly affection for Guy, and this 
was a matter of regret to him, since it meant the non- 
fulfilment of a project which Lilian Baldwin and he 
had often pleased themselves by discussing in days 
gone by. He himself was much attached to the girl, 
and, considering how many young women there are 
to whom it would be rather difficult to become 
attached, it seemed a sad pity to lose her. Lost, 
however, in that sense she manifestly was, and, this 
being so, some comfort was to be derived from Guy’s 
equally manifest tepidity. It would not, perhaps, 
have taken a great deal to make the young man fall 
seriously in love with her. As it was, he had been, 
and still remained, a little in love with her — not 
seriously so. Paul, faithful to the rule which he had 
laid down for himself and also, in his shy way, dis- 
posed to shrink from alluding to such subjects, had 
not been interrogative ; but Guy, who was not in the 
least shy, had volunteered confidences on several 
occasions. “ I believe it’s more that I’m awfully fond 
of her,” he had said once, seeming to examine his own 
mental condition with a species of amused curiosity. 
He did not, for the rest, appear to be of an amorous 
temperament, and if he was not averse to ephemeral 
flirtations, he never, so far as Paul knew, allowed them 
to interfere with pursuits or amusements which made 
more appeal to him. For all his charm and amiability, 
there was a touch of hardness in his composition 
against which Paul (himself tender and sensitive below 
the surface) had once or twice barked metaphorical 
shins. He now went on to mention casually that he 
was going to the theatre that evening with the 


‘IN LOCO PARENTIS’ 


95 


Baldwins and Wattie Cleland, and that he proposed 
to bring the whole party — “ There maybe a couple of 
other fellows, but I’m not sure ” — back to supper in 
Chester Square. 

“ I like your cool cheek ! ” exclaimed the master 
of the house. “ How am I to provide food for six or 
seven people at such short notice, do you suppose ? ” 

But the truth was that he did like it. Nothing 
gave him greater pleasure than to be treated with a 
lack of ceremony which afforded him the sensation 
of being the young fellow’s intimate and equal. It 
is a subtle form of flattery more acceptable to the 
elderly than the young are generally aware. 

Guy was clever enough to be aware of it; clever 
enough, likewise, to know that there is a time to 
speak and a time to keep silence. Naturally his old 
man, who had received something of a jar, would 
want to think things over before saying any more 
about them. After he should have had his dinner 
and smoked a couple of cigars in solitude he would 
arrive at the desired and predestined conclusion all 
right. In the meantime literature, the coming 
University cricket match, the prospects of autumn 
shooting at Stone Hall and so forth would provide 
all that was needed to keep conversation alive. 

La parole est aux jeunes. Every wise man who has 
passed the meridian of life recognises that, and knows 
that if the inexperienced are not unlikely to make 
mistakes, the experienced are almost certain to make 
one by thwarting them. This may be a pity; but 
there is no help for it, and really the next best thing 
to ruling people by the exercise of an enlightened and 


96 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


benevolent despotism is to let them rule themselves. 
Half measures lead to nothing but barren disputes 
and the stirring up of bad blood between the dis- 
putants. Something of this sort was, as Guy had 
foreseen that it would be, the outcome of Paul’s 
solitary ruminations. No doubt the lad would obey 
a positive order, and obey it without sulking ; he had 
never in his life been either disobedient or sulky. 
Nor had he ever been very amenable to argument or 
persuasion. Mutinous he was not; only he was con- 
stitutionally impatient of control, just as he was 
impatient of delay, and it was in all probability for 
that reason that he had selected an avocation scarcely 
worthy of the talents which he would bring to it. 
Well, disillusion might be in store for him ; he might 
find the head of a steady-going mercantile firm more 
authoritative, less disposed towards new and adven- 
turous departures than he anticipated. If so, that 
would do him no harm. On the other hand, a good 
deal of harm might be done by forcing him against 
his will along a track which he was not minded to 
tread. Coercion, in short, must not be employed, 
and nothing less than coercion was worth attempting. 

So when the theatre-goers arrived about midnight, 
and when Audrey took immediate occasion to whisper 
to her host “ You’ve caved in ! I can see it by your 
face ! ” his smiling reply was “ That’s my strength 
of mind, not my weakness.” 

“ After a fashion, perhaps,” the girl conceded ; 
“ but you think too much about him and not enough 
about yourself. Why should he always have his own 
way ? ” 


‘IN LOCO PARENTIS’ 97 

“ Something in his elemental construction, I 
imagine.” 

“ Sure it isn’t something in yours ? ” 

“Now you’re accusing me of weakness, after all, 
when I thought it was so intelligent of you to grasp 
the point. Well, I confess that this scheme of Guy’s 
doesn’t enchant me; but, as I’m not prepared to 
knock it on the head, the chances are that it will 
materialise, unless Mr. Cleland suggests unreasonable 
terms.” 

“ I’ll tell Mr. Cleland’s son to see that they are 
made prohibitive,” Audrey declared. “ If you don’t 
mind Guy’s being wasted, I do.” 

It will be perceived from the above short colloquy 
that the terms upon which the speakers stood with 
regard to one another were intimate and confidential. 
A good deal more guarded in his utterances was Paul 
wont to be with Audrey’s mother, who evidently had 
not been informed of what Guy was meditating, since 
she made no reference to it. 

Mrs. Baldwin, brocaded and jewelled, was in high 
good humour. She had brought with her a glossy 
lordling whose name Paul did not catch, but who was 
visibly smitten with Audrey and complacently 
exhibited in the character of one more captive. As 
a matter of fact, Audrey’s captives were not very 
numerous, for she had short ways with the susceptible ; 
but her mother liked to represent that they were, and 
could never quite forgive Guy Hilliar for not caring 
whether they were or not. 

“ Only came into his estates the other day, after 
a long minority,” Paul was told; “ which means that 

H 


98 


PAULAS PARAGON 


there’s any amount of money. And such a nice, 
unassuming boy ! Oh, not amazingly clever ; but 
it isn’t required of everybody to be that. One 
paragon is enough, perhaps, in a party of half a dozen.” 

The supper party, anyhow, was sufficiently en- 
livened by Guy, who not only knew how to talk but 
how to make other people talk. Or rather he had 
the knack of doing so without perceptible effort, 
which was one amongst many reasons for his being 
liked far and wide. 

“ I saw Audrey urging you to put the extinguisher 
on me,” he remarked, laughing, when Paul and he 
were alone. “You can, you know. I make you the 
same offer that I made to her. Tell me to give the 
thing up and it shall be given up.” 

“ What did she say to that ? ” Paul inquired. 

“ She didn’t say anything at all.” 

“ Ah ! Then I think, if you’ll allow me. I’ll pro- 
visionally imitate her.” 


CHAPTER IX 


COMEDY ON AND OFF THE STAGE 

Any private instructions that Audrey may have 
conveyed to Walter Cleland must have been either 
disregarded or ineffectual; for Mr. Cleland senior 
proved so amenable and moderate that negotiations 
were reduced to a mere matter of form. He called 
in Chester Square by appointment one day — stout, 
white-whiskered, rosy and genial — to make frank 
acknowledgment of his readiness, not to say anxiety, 
for a concluded bargain. 

“ The fact of the matter is, Mr. Lequesne, that I 
want that young man of yours — want him rather 
badly. I’m sixty-five years of age, I’m sorry to tell 
you, and I’ve had the misfortune to lose my eldest 
son, and whether Walter will be fit to step into my 
place when the time comes is just what I don’t know. 
I believe he has some business capacity; but he 
hasn’t Hilliar’s brains and doesn’t pretend he has. 
Brains are required, with competition getting keener 
every day, and there’s no use in blinking the fact that 
at sixty-five a man’s brains, like his limbs, are the 
worse for wear. I see the full force of what Hilliar 
says. Chances for us in more directions than one; 
only we must look alive if we don’t want to be crowded 
out. Why don’t I look alive, then ? Well, sir, I’m 

H 2 00 


100 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


a sexagenarian, that’s all. Understand me ; I’m not 
suggesting partnership tomorrow or next day. The 
lad will have to start at the foot of the ladder, as my 
own boy is doing ; but I expect to see him running up 
it quicker than most.” 

What Mr. Cleland apparently did suggest was an 
abbreviated period of apprenticeship, and the sum 
which he thought he would be entitled to demand 
at a later date, should all go well, as the price of Guy 
Hilliar’s admission into his firm did not sound ex- 
cessive. Rather flattering, this avowed eagerness 
on the part of a shrewd, elderly man of business to 
annex a force as yet purely conjectural. Paul could 
not help feeling flattered, though he also felt bound 
to observe : 

“ It has to be remembered that if Guy sticks to his 
present purpose, he will be going in for something that 
he has never touched or thought about before. He 
may be totally unsuited for it.” 

But Mr. Cleland’s gesture of dissent was emphatic. 
“ No, sir; he can’t be that, and I’ll tell you why he 
can’t. He is suited for anything in this world that he 
may choose to turn his hand to. Once in a while — 
once in a generation, shall we say ? — a youngster of 
his sort crops up. I know them when I see them, and 
so do you, I make no doubt. I rather discouraged him 
at first, as he may have told you. Not because I 
didn’t want him, but because both my boy Walter 
and I thought you wouldn’t consider the prospect 
good enough for him. Mind you, I don’t say it is. 
Very likely, if I were his father or his guardian, I 
should wish him to fly at higher game. However, 


COMEDY ON AND OFF THE STAGE 101 


that’s for you to decide. I’m not here to oppose his 
inclinations and my own interests.” 

Opposition to Guy’s inclinations could scarcely 
come from one who had no interests apart from his 
to serve, nor any personal wishes of an obstinate 
kind. Two or three days sufficed to dispose of certain 
preliminaries, insisted upon by Mr. Cleland — a clear 
statement of the firm’s financial position, a con- 
sultation with Mr. Lequesne’s lawyers, the exchange 
of a few formal letters, and so forth — after which it 
only remained for the destined re ju Venator of a 
venerable house to proceed to Liverpool at his earliest 
convenience. The young man needed no spur. He 
was impatient to get to work, and would have taken 
his departure forthwith, had he not been pledged to 
Mrs. Baldwin’s dramatic entertainment. 

“ Nobody’s fault but my own,” he philosophically 
remarked. “ Mrs. Baldwin would never have thought 
of theatricals if she hadn’t been put up to it by Wattie, 
and Wattie was instigated by me. You see, my first 
idea was that I might be the better of a little backing 
and that Wattie would help me with you; so I 
offered him the chance of capering about behind the 
footlights, which was much the same thing as offering 
a carrot to a donkey. Now it turns out that I was the 
donkey. It’s ripping of you to yield without a 
murmur, and I’m no end grateful ; but I didn’t foresee 
that everything was going to be made so smooth for 
me. 

He saw and foresaw as much as quick wits and 
intuitive sympathy of a certain order enabled him to 
do. He may be pardoned (in view of his youth) for 


102 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


not seeing how this little speech of his risked hurting 
the feelings of a sensitive hearer. But if Paul was 
ultra-sensitive, he was also very sensible ; so his only 
rejoinder was : 

“You can make up for lost time later. Meanwhile, 
your loss is my gain.” 

The best days of Paul’s life were those during which 
he had his boy with him. He looked forward to them 
for weeks and mused upon them with a contented, 
retrospective smile long after they had dropped back 
into the past. But the boy’s point of view was, and 
of course could not but be, different. It was quite 
natural that he should be in a hurry to be off, quite in 
accordance with nature that he should have forgotten 
sundry projects for joint recreation which the curtail- 
ment of his holiday was likely to defeat. Between 
the old and the young intimate friendship is only 
possible upon the condition that the old shall never 
be exacting. To be exacting is to be a bore, and when 
once you have become a bore all is over ! It has 
already been mentioned that Paul’s tendency was to 
magnify the wisdom and expediency of self-efface- 
ment. He was not really in any danger of being a 
bore, and he might easily have seen more of Guy than 
he did during the ensuing fortnight if he had not 
waited for suggestions which never came, because he 
was supposed to be busy and disinclined for them. 
It was taken for granted that he would be disinclined 
to attend the Cromwell Road theatricals ; but he was 
exhorted to “ buck up and face the music.” 

“ Audrey says she hopes to goodness you won’t,” 
Guy told him; “she pretends that you’ll lose all 


COjMEDY on and off THF stage 103 


respect for her if you see her posturing as a lovelorn, 
lackadaisical, mid-Victorian damsel. The truth is, 
though, that she acts jolly well, and you’re as mid- 
Victorian as you can be yourself. Aren’t you now ? 
Besides, Wattie will make you laugh.” 

In any case, Mrs. Baldwin would not have condoned 
Paul’s absence. She was rather proud of her long- 
standing friendship with a distinguished man of letters 
and liked to parade him at parties which had another 
species of distinction for their chief end and aim. On 
this occasion she had been fortunate in getting together 
a large number of titled guests (always to her the 
symbol of social triumph); so when Paul reached 
the top of the staircase where she was standing, 
he was received with smiles indicative of a high 
barometer. 

“ At last ! ” she exclaimed, while she held his hand. 
“ I haven’t seen you for ages. Not since that evening 
when you gave us such a good supper and carefully 
didn’t tell me about this fantastic move of Guy’s, 
which must have been worrying you to death. I’m 
so sorry ! — it seems such a come-down for him, doesn’t 
it ? But we can’t talk now. You’ll find a seat 
reserved for you, with your card pinned to it. The 
third row, I think.” 

Paul made his way into a darkened auditorium 
which was already crowded and soon became in- 
conveniently so. Mrs. Baldwin had asked more 
people than the room would hold, and apparently 
there were no defaulters; but that she doubtless 
regarded as a success in itself. As for the play, it was 
not a great work of art, nor could the performers be 


104 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


said to rise above the ordinary amateur level, with the 
one notable exception of Walter Cleland, whose 
impersonation of a bewildered, irascible busybody 
fairly took the audience by storm. Thanks to his 
talent, as well as to the infinite pains that he had taken 
in coaching his collaborators, the three acts passed off 
briskly, accompanied and encouraged by constant 
laughter and applause. When all was over, he was 
called before the curtain and loudly cheered; after 
which a similar compliment was paid to Guy and 
Audrey. “ Because they’re so beautiful,” Paul’s 
neighbour said. 

It was a sufficient reason, and one which might 
not, perhaps, be deemed objectionable by most young 
ladies ; but Miss Baldwin, whose quick ears had more 
than once caught the inevitable comment that she 
and young Hilliar made a charming couple, bowed her 
acknowledgments with a little frown of impatience 
which did not fail to tickle her companion. 

“ Oh, yes,” said he, as soon as he had led her off the 
stage, “ that’s what their arch mother-wit suggests, 
and scowling at them was a very good way to convince 
them that they’re right. What shall I do ? Would 
you like me to step before the curtain again and say, 
‘ Ladies and gentlemen, to prevent misconception, let 
me tell you that there’s nothing between me and 
Miss Baldwin. Absolutely nothing, I give you my 
word ? ’ ” 

“Yes, please,” answered Audrey. “ And you might 
mention at the same time that I’m sorry I shall not 
be able to show any more this evening, as I’m going 
to take a Turkish bath,” 


COMEDY ON AND OFF THE STAGE 105 

“ I’ll mention it. So then we don’t wind up with a 
dance, after all ? ” 

“ The rest of you do. I’m not equal to dancing 
after what I have been made to go through.” 

Guy sat down on the floor and buried his face in 
his hands. “You cut me to the quick ! ” he mur- 
mured. “ Knowing that I was personally repugnant 
to you, I did try my very best to combine an approxi- 
mately plausible rendering of my part with a physical 
aloofness for which I hoped you would be grateful. 
I said to myself, ‘ I must be looking supremely absurd ; 
everybody must see that my chaste salutes are being 
bestowed upon the desert air ; but no matter ! I’m 
doing the right thing, I’m riding to orders, and I shall 
be rewarded later.’ Now my reward is — this ! ” 

“ Don’t be imbecile,” said Audrey. 

“ I shall go on being imbecile as long as you go on 
being cross. Where’s your sense of justice ? I didn’t 
write the play, I didn’t give it, I didn’t invite you to 
act in it, I didn’t invite myself to act in it. Yet I am 
to bear the whole burden of other people’s sins ! 
And just as we are upon the point of being parted for 
Heaven knows how long too ! ” 

“ Do you mean that you are leaving for Liverpool 
tomorrow ? ” Audrey asked in a slightly altered voice 
“ Well, not just literally tomorrow, but ...” 

“ Then get up out of the dust. Since you aren’t 
going into exile yet, what is there to cry about ? ” 

“ What is there to have a Turkish bath about ? ” 
“ Oh, I need a thorough scrubbing; but of course 
I can’t disappear. I must change my clothes, though, 
and I don’t me^n to hurry,” 


106 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


A large proportion of Mrs. Baldwin’s guests went 
away, as they were expected to do, soon after the play 
was over, and when Hilliar — who also had to 

wash his face and get into evening attire — returned 
to the long, rapidly cleared room, he found it tenanted 
for the most part by young people. A tall, striking- 
looking woman whom he had noticed in the front row" 
of seats during the performance, and who was now 
standing near the doorway, manifestly requested Mrs. 
Baldwin to introduce him to her. This was Lady 
Freda Barran, a daughter of the Duke of Branksome 
and a lady whose notorious escapades had penetrated 
to circles far removed from those in which she habi- 
tually disported herself. It was not everybody who 
cared to know Lady Freda ; still, as she had contrived 
to keep out of the Divorce Court and had apparently 
arrived at some sort of a modus vivendi with her hus- 
band, she continued — her ducal parentage doubtless 
aiding — to be very generally received, and Mrs. 
Baldwin, for one, affected to believe that she was less 
black than she was painted. 

For the young man who was now presented to her 
she had no black looks, but on the contrary, a smile 
of that peculiar kind which she reserved for attractive 
young men and which seldom failed to attract them. 
She was on a large scale and extremely handsome — 
a sort of blonde Juno, with a superb figure, red lips, 
and sleepy eyes of a brownish tint which suggested 
smouldering fires. Presently Guy found himself 
dancing with her, found that she danced better than 
anybody he had ever come across before in his life, 
found, furthermore, that she knew" how to insinuate 


COMEDY ON AND OFF THE STAGE 107 


agreeably flattering things after a lazy, casual fashion. 
He had two dances in succession with her and began 
to be interested in her while they were sitting out a 
third; for she took that opportunity to be candidly 
confidential with him respecting herself. It passes for 
a commonplace that women who hanker after mas- 
culine appreciation always talk about their inter- 
locutors, never about themselves ; but although 
this may be a sound enough working principle, it was 
little regarded by Lady Freda, who was immune from 
principles of any description and"^ who loved to 
expatiate upon the one theme which was to her of 
prime importance. She had been much more sinned 
against than sinning, it appeared. An unsympathetic 
husband, a few venial imprudences on her part, 
censorious tongues, the calumnies of envious hypo- 
crites — and so on and so forth. The fable has 
been narrated times out of mind; yet it remains, 
and will ever remain, effective with the young and 
generous. If Lady Freda wished to gain a champion 
that evening, (but perhaps that was not exactly what 
she wished,) it served her purpose. 

“ At her old games ! ” muttered an elderly spectator 
who had reason to know, if anybody had, what her 
games were. “ Ought to be ashamed of herself, 
making an ass of a boy like that ! ” 

The Duke of Branksome, now a widower well 
stricken in years, was scarcely upon speaking terms 
with his daughter. Nobody could accuse him of 
Puritanical rigidity; but, when all’s said, there are 
limits, and Lady Freda had transgressed them. 
Moreover, she had been terribly expensive. Again 


108 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


and again he had paid her heavy debts; again and 
again he had put up with her cynical effrontery, 
shrinking from the scandal of an open rupture; but 
of late he had held little verbal communication with 
one who only sought him out when she wanted money, 
and if by chance he found himself in the same room 
with her, he generally made haste to quit it. Had he 
known that she was to be present that evening, he 
would probably have excused himself; though he 
had a liking for his hostess and a suspicion that it 
pleased her to supply his name to representatives of 
the press as having appeared at her parties. But 
since he was there, and since he saw what was patent, 
he thought a word of warning to Paul Lequesne, with 
whom he was acquainted, would not be out of 
place. 

“ Don’t let that good-looking young fellow of yours 
have anything to do with my daughter, or she’ll 
gobble him up, body and bones. Her appetite for 
good-looking young fellows is insatiable.” 

“ He has a head on his shoulders,” answered Paul ; 
“ I think he can take care of himself.” 

“ Don’t you believe it, my dear Lequesne ! Some 
rules have no exceptions. Unless you want a dog to be 
caught in a trap, you don’t trust to his taking care of 
himself over trapped ground, and Freda is a deadly 
man-trap. Neither more nor less than that, I’m sorry 
to say.” 

She was, at any rate, almost as tenacious. Either 
because Guy Hilliar had taken her fancy or because 
there was nobody else in the room who seemed worth 
while, she maintained a firm grip of him, and when at 


COMEDY ON AND OFF THE STAGE 109 


length he contrived to slip away, in order to beg 
Audrey for a dance, his request came too late. 

“ Sorry,” said the girl, “ but I’ve nothing left. 
Don’t try to look broken-hearted ; you aren’t a good 
actor, you know. Even Mr. Cleland admits that you 
aren’t that.” 

Wattie Cleland, who was her partner at the time, 
would certainly never have admitted that Guy was 
not superlatively good in no matter what capacity; 
but he did sometimes wonder at his hero’s taste, or 
want of taste. He inquired of Audrey who the big, 
supercilious lady with the powdered nose was, and 
was quite astonished to hear that she was a famous 
beauty. He was in nowise astonished, however, to 
learn that she was “ not very nice.” 

“ Oh, that’s printed all over her in large type,” he 
observed. “ I hate women of her sort ! ” 

“ Most men,” said Audrey, “ do the other thing, 
I’m afraid. Poor Guy ! Well, I don’t feel quite as 
sorry as I did that he is going to be buried alive in 
Liverpool, nor quite as furious with you for burying 
him.” 

“ It hasn’t been my fault,” Wattie eagerly declared ; 
“ it hasn’t indeed ! I tried my level best to choke 
him off. Don’t I always try to do everything that 
you ask me to do ? ” 

“ I hadn’t noticed it. I thought I had asked you 
to let me off acting tonight. But that’s over and done 
with, thank goodness ! Now I want to go on dancing, 
please.” 

As Paul walked homewards with Guy in the pale 
light of dawn, he ventured to repeat something of 


110 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


what the Duke of Branksome had said, and was 
heartily laughed at for his pains. 

“ Did you sit up all night for the sake of administer- 
ing that drop of wholesome poison to me, old man ? 
I believe you did. Heaven forgive you ! Make your 
mind easy ; all is peace ! She asked me to go and see 
her, but I shan’t go; there won’t be time. All the 
same, it’s rather rough on her to be robbed of her 
character by her own father.” 

“ I fancy that, as far as character goes, she can sing 
in the presence of any robber,” said Paul. 

“ Ah, well ! you don’t know much about her, do 
you, old man ? Not as much as I do, though I’ve 
only known her a few hours. The truth, as far as I 
can make out, is that she’s a little bit unhappy and 
more than a little bit maligned; but really I don’t 
care a penny, one way or the other. Hang all 
women ! No ; I won’t even make an exception in 
favour of Audrey, who has been trampling upon me 
and refusing to dance with me. Give me a fill of 
tobacco and let’s talk about more satisfying things.” 


CHAPTER X 


THE DUNRIDGE LINKS 

It was not until the late autumn that Guy saw his 
way to take a holiday. He might have had one in 
August for the asking ; but in his letters from Liverpool 
he spoke of himself always as undergoing a tedious 
process of training which would only be protracted by 
interruptions, and he preferred to get done with it 
once for all in half the usual time by working double 
tides. Consequently there was no partridge shooting 
for him in September, and two-thirds of October had 
slipped out of the life of the waning year before 
Paul was apprised by telegram of his impending 
advent. 

“ Quite right that he should take his business in 
earnest,” remarked Mr. Hale, who had tramped up to 
Stone Hall to join in welcoming the quondam pupil of 
whom he was not a little proud ; “ one wouldn’t wish 
him to be a loafer. At the same time, it isn’t as if he 
had to toil for his daily bread. I’m for moderation 
in all things myself.” 

“You and I, my dear Hale, are moderate men,” 
answered Paul. “ That accounts for our having got 
on together so happily all these years and for one of us 
enjoying the regard and esteem of the neighbourhood. 

I daresay it also accounts for your not being Arch- 
ill 


112 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


bishop of Canterbury and for my remaining an obscure 
essayist. You mustn’t expect soaring sky-rockets like 
Guy to be moderate.” 

“ Well, Archbishops are, at all events,” said Mr. 
Hale; “ it’s their one indispensable qualification.” 

Mr. Hale, grizzled, weatherbeaten and past middle 
age, was not now likely to be promoted to any higher 
post than that with which he was, upon the whole, 
pretty well contented. He still deplored his friend’s 
agnosticism and sometimes combated it ; but he had 
a comforting, unformulated theory respecting strayed 
sheep which allowed of their ultimate inclusion in the 
fold by methods beyond the range of the official 
shepherd’s crook. Furthermore, he opined and pro- 
claimed that if charity and unselfishness be sure 
outward signs of an inward Christianity, there must be 
something inaccurate about Paul Lequesne’s label. 

“ I apologise to you and the Archbishops,” said the 
latter; “ I expressed myself badly. I believe what I 
really meant was that you and I haven’t Guy’s all- 
conquering animal spirits.” 

“We haven’t his all -conquering brains, I know,” 
returned Mr. Hale, with a goodhumoured laugh. 
(He never read Paul’s writings and was under the 
honest impression that they scarcely deserved to be 
read.) “ It’s amazing, the way that fellow grips and 
masters a subject ! He has the whole art and science 
of shipowning, whatever that may be worth, at his 
fingers’ ends by this time. I’ll be bound. But do you 
fancy such a career for him ? ” 

“ I don’t find myself enthusiastic about it,” Paul 
confessed; “ still, if he is satisfied, so am I.” 


THE DUNRIDGE LINKS 


113 


Mr. Hale shook his head. “ Lucky for you that 
Guy is what he is ! Your system would be the ruin 
of most young men.” 

“ How do you know that I should apply it to any 
other young man ? Guy being, as you say, what he 
is, I can afford to let him do what he likes. I have no 
fear of his ever doing anything that I shall be entitled 
to dislike.” 

The subject of this unlimited confidence walked 
in while he was still under discussion. He looked a 
little pale and tired, Paul thought, but said he was 
perfectly well, though short of fresh air. 

“ I’ve been holding my nose relentlessly to the 
grindstone for more than three months,” he added, 
“ and it’s sharp enough now to rip up a rhinoceros.” 

“You have encountered some pachyderms already, 
I daresay,” remarked Paul. 

“ Oh, yes, and there are others to be tackled; but 
most of them have dropped charging at me, I’m glad 
to say. Cleland and Son will begin to forge ahead 
soon, you’ll see. Meanwhile, I’ve earned the right to 
stretch my legs. Now, Mr. Hale, do you want to run 
a quarter of a mile against me, with a hundred yards’ 
start ? ” 

“ I do not,” answered Mr. Hale decisively ; “ but 
I’ll tell you what I’ll do with you. I’ll play you for 
half-a-crown over the Dunridge links, and you shall 
give me a third. I allow myself two days of golf a 
week, and tomorrow happens to be one of them.” 

“ Right you are ! But what about my old man ? ” 

“ Your old man,” said Paul, who did not play golf 
and who had had hopes of a day’s rough shooting, 

I 


114 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ will be delighted to walk round with you and act as 
referee in case of disputes. A visit to Dunridge will 
have all the charm of novelty for me ; I haven’t been 
near the place since it smartened itself up into a 
popular seaside resort.” 

If he was unable to feel any great interest in the 
eighteen-hole course whereby Dunridge had supple- 
mented a somewhat meagre allowance of natural 
seductions, it was none the less true that he was 
delighted to do anything in Guy’s society, and he 
thoroughly enjoyed driving across the sands in a 
dogcart on the following morning, his companion 
taking the reins as a matter of course, while Perkins, 
the young gentleman’s early instructor and profoundl}^ 
appreciative admirer, sat behind, with folded arms 
and pricked-up ears. What Perkins heard was 
scarcely of a nature to appeal to him, for no more than 
his master or Mr. Hale could he conceive of Guy in a 
counting-house as the right man in the right place; 
but he gathered that, as usual, victories were in sight 
and laurels waiting to be plucked. It appeared that, 
although Mr. Cleland was liable to fits of obstruction 
and reaction, a forward policy was to be adopted. 
The substitution of at least two fast liners, to begin 
with, for the leisurely tramps which had hitherto 
waddled out to South America, making no bid for 
passenger traffic; the opening up of additional and 
regular communications with the Far East, for which 
there was still ample room — upon these and other 
projects Guy held forth with a zest which showed, 
at all events, that his heart was in his job 


THE DUNRIDGE LINKS 


115 


“ We’re going to start a branch office in London, 
and I rather expect to be put in charge of it,” he 
mentioned parenthetically. 

So this was good hearing for one who had been 
wondering upon what possible pretext an occasional 
stay of some days in Liverpool could be contrived. 
A pleasant drive through the crisp air, between the 
silvery grey dunes and the green sea, with the gulls 
circling overhead and the fresh young voice sustaining 
its monologue. The best moments of life come and 
go like that, not specially noticeable while they last, 
yet ineffaceable and raised to their true value when 
one looks back upon them and thinks with a sense of 
satisfaction not wholly retrospective, “Yes, that was 
a good day ! ” 

Mr. Hale, who had bicycled over to Dunridge by the 
circuitous high road, was waiting for his opponent 
outside the little club-house and was swinging a 
driver with the easy accuracy attainable by most 
golfers when there is no ball in the way to cramp their 
muscles. As he was a twelve-handicap man, he 
ought to have been able to give a pretty good account 
of himself, at the odds, against a player who had 
never reached, nor tried to reach, high proficiency. 
Nevertheless, he lost his half-crown at the sixteenth 
hole, after a match in which it may have been true, 
as he alleged, that Guy had all the luck. 

“ Who but you,” he complained, “ would have laid 
himself dead with a cleek shot out of the worst bunker 
on the course ! You take the wrong club, use it in the 
wrong way and then look as if you had expected nothing 


116 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


else than the miraculous result. That kind of thing 
isn’t golf, it’s a mixture of ignorance and effrontery ! ” 

“ What you would have called golf,” observed Guy, 
“ would have been to play back with a niblick and 
make sure of losing the hole in orthodox style. But 
cheer up; you shall have your revenge in the after- 
noon. I’m never much use after lunch.” 

He was to be of no use at all to Mr. Hale, as it 
turned out. Hardly had the trio disposed of such 
frugal fare as the club could furnish during the off 
season when a smart motor dashed up, from which 
descended two men and a lady who flung the door 
open, marched in, called aloud for caddies, stared 
interrogatively at the strangers and looked a good deal 
as if the whole place belonged to them. It did, in 
fact, belong to one of them, a swarthy, undersized 
man, with a clipped black moustache. This was 
young Lord Dunridge, the chief landed proprietor 
in a district upon which he did not very often shed the 
light of his presence. After a moment he remembered 
the parson, whom he had been scrutinising, and said 
“ How are you. Hale ? ” with a sidelong jerk of the 
head; to which greeting the other made somewhat 
cold and formal response. But there was nothing 
cold or formal in the lady’s recognition of Guy Hilliar. 
Removing the white gauze veil in which her head was 
enveloped, she displayed the features of Lady Freda 
Barran and gave utterance to a pleased surprise 
which was evidently sincere. 

“ You ! — of all people to come across in this 
wilderness ! What luck ! I meant to have a round 


THE DUNRIDGE LINKS 


117 


with Lord Dunridge, for want of something better to 
do, but I shan’t now. Jimmy, you and Dun will have 
to play together; I’m going to take a lesson from 
Mr. Hilliar.” She added a brief, casual introduction. 
“ My husband. Captain Barran.” 

Captain Barran, late of the 22nd Hussars, was 
known in sporting circles as a fine horseman and a 
constant winner of cross-country events. He was not 
much known elsewhere, nor in truth was there much 
else to know about him. He had a square, clean- 
shaven face, dull, greyish eyes, and a thin-lipped 
mouth, which he seldom opened. Having opened it 
now to reply “ Right ! ” and having favoured Guy 
with a bow which was scarcely more than a nod, he 
seemed to think that nothing further in the way of 
general amenity was required of him. Ill-used and 
unconsidered though Lady Freda had represented 
herself to be, it was clear that she knew how to get 
her own way on occasion. She obtained it on this 
occasion, notwithstanding Lord Dunridge’s sullen 
scowl, Guy’s murmured excuses and Mr. Hale’s out- 
spoken assertion nf a prior claim. After all, what 
pressure can be brought to bear upon a lady who 
frankly avows that she doesn’t care two straws 
whether other people are pleased or not ? 

Her nominal victim was not, perhaps, so very ill 
pleased. He could play golf with Mr. Hale any day, and 
Lady Freda excited his curiosity, if she stirred no 
other emotion in him. Other emotions, however, were 
at her beck and call; for although she was not in 
the least clever, she had large experience of a certain 


118 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


order and was herself emotional — within limits. 
That she intended to make a conquest of this hand- 
some youth and enjoyed the process of so doing were 
as much matters of course as it was that she would 
partially suceeed. Complete success was not obtain- 
able at a rush, since she had to deal with one who did 
not lose either his head or his heart easily, and whose 
imagination chanced just then to be engaged and fired 
by unromantic commercial visions ; but no doubt she 
accomplished enough to satisfy her. Wandering 
amongst the wind-swept sandhills and over spaces of 
turf upon which she inflicted an occasional wound for 
form’s sake, (she declined to count her strokes and 
played her opponent’s ball when it seemed to lie 
nicely,) she employed the art which conceals art to 
such purpose that Guy very soon thought he under- 
stood her. He could quite understand that ill- 
natured, superficial people might eye her askance, 
as she complained that many did. She owned that 
she had not always been circumspect; it was not 
in her nature to be circumspect; and besides — 

“ Anything that helps one to forget for a few hours ! 
I lead a dog’s life really, though I’m supposed to be 
having lots of fun. Shooting parties, race meetings 
and that eternal bridge, which reduces me to the 
verge of ruin twice or three times a year — if you only 
knew how sick I am of the whole monotonous round ! 
But I’m like a squirrel in a cage ; the more I struggle 
to escape the more I stick where I am. I don’t want 
to talk about myself, though ; I’m not worth talking 
about.” 


THE DUNRIDGE LINKS 


119 


It was with great difficulty that she could manage 
to discuss anybody or anything else for long ; yet her 
knowledge of the average man forbade her to harp 
for ever upon that one string, and the lively interest 
which she affected in her companion’s present and 
future did not go wholly without reward. You may be 
self-reliant enough to adhere to your own purpose, 
good-humouredly dispensing with the approval of 
your friends; still intelligent sympathy can never 
be unwelcome, and Lady Freda had nothing but 
admiration to express for a young man who declined 
to be led by the nose along well-trodden tracks. 

“ So original of you to strike out a line for your- 
self I ” said she. “ And you’ll be in London in the 
winter, you think ? Well, that’s something to look 
forward to. Come and see me in Green Street. 
Come as soon as possible, and come often. Do you 
know you’re the only human being in my entire 
acquaintance. Such an acquaintance, and such 
beings as it’s composed of ! ” 

Guy was sorry for her. She intimated that she had 
never been given half a chance, and that sounded like 
the truth. It also seemed to be flatteringly true 
(for the matter of that, it was) that she longed for 
closer acquaintanceship with him and his humanity 
Captain Barran, visible at intervals in the offing, was 
presumably human, but certainly did not look humane, 
while Lord Dunridge, playing golf like a cricketer, 
and an infuriated cricketer to boot, had the effect of 
being a brutal, bad-mannered person. 

“ Dun ? ” said Lady Freda indifferently, in reply 


120 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


to an incidental question respecting the latter. 
“ Oh, I don’t know; he’s more Jimmy’s friend than 
mine. Bores me to tears; but that’s not his fault, 
poor fellow ! Bless you for delivering me from him 
this time, anyhow ! ” 

It was almost a pity that Mr. Hale could not hear 
her; for a speech so impudently mendacious would 
have gone far towards justifying the hard things 
that he was even then saying about a lady who had 
defrauded him of his game and left him with nothing 
to do but to tell Paul what she was. Mr. Hale knew 
what she was : everybody knew. 

“ I should have thought you must have heard 
current reports, Lequesne, living more than half the 
year in London, as you do.” 

“ Nothing specific that I can call to mind,” answered 
Paul, whose relations with the gay world were slight. 
“ One has a vague impression of her not being exactly 
the sort of woman whose price is said to be far above 
rubies.” 

“ There’s something more than a vague impression 
in these parts, I can tell you ! It’s well known that 
old Lady Dunridge ceased to live with her son last 
year rather than receive her, and if you speak of 
price ! — well, if all tales are true ...” 

“ Perhaps they aren’t. At any rate, she has her 
husband with her.” 

That s just it. I hope I am not given to forming 
uncharitable judgments, but I am bound to conclude 
that Captain Barran is either a knave or a fool, and 
he doesn t pass for a fool, I believe. It is altogether 


THE DUNRIDGE LINKS 


121 


a disgraceful scandal, which is setting the worst 
possible example to the neighbourhood.” 

“ Is it your theory,” inquired Paul, smiling, “ that 
such moral irregularities are contagious ? I only 
ask for the sake of information and because I can’t 
myself see why they should be.” 

“ A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump,” 
returned Mr. Hale dogmatically; “you know that 
as well as I do. There’s no end to the mischief that 
a man in Lord Dunridge’s position can work by his 
personal misconduct. I’m not sure that I oughtn’t 
to cut him. I’m quite sure you ought to tell Guy 
that he must see no more of the woman.” 

“ On the ground that she is naughty ? That might 
be a reason if he were a curate ; but you see, my dear 
Hale, the ordinary young layman can’t be kept from 
coming into contact with naughtiness. And this 
particular sinner is the less formidable as, according 
to you, she isn’t unattached.” 

“ Oh, don’t flatter yourself that that’s any safe- 
guard ! These depraved women are like the daughters 
of the horse-leech ! ” 

It flashed across Paul’s memory that the daughter 
of the Duke of Branksome had been described by her 
father as possessed of an insatiable appetite in certain 
directions ; but he only smiled and observed : 

“ How well informed you seem to be with regard to 
them ! Nevertheless, I venture to think that I shall 
do more wisely to let Guy form his own opinion of 
the lady.” 

It would not, in any case, be wise to encourage the 


122 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


visibly threatened intervention of good Mr. Hale, 
who presently departed on his bicycle, remarking that 
since he had been done out of his afternoon round, he 
might as well attend to some parish work ; but Paul 
was a little more disquieted than he cared to show. 
In principle, young men had better be left to acquire 
knowledge of this bad world for themselves; in 
practice, one can’t — if they happen to be one’s own 
young men — refrain from trying to put them on their 
guard. So Paul, when his young man reappeared all 
alone — Lady Freda having joined her husband and 
Lord Dunridge at the far end of the links, whither the 
motor had been sent to pick them up — displayed 
himself in the unwonted character of a retailer of 
gossip. 

“ Oh, that’s what they say of her, is it ? ” asked 
Guy, with a disdainful laugh. “ I rather wish 
somebody, not a parson or a woman, would say it 
to me.” 

“ I didn’t know I was either,” Paul remarked. 

“ Dear old man,” returned Guy, patting him on the 
back, “ of course I don’t mind your saying anything 
to me. To begin with, I’m sure you wouldn’t really 
believe such lies upon the strength of mere report, 
and then I perfectly see what you’re driving at. Be 
comforted ; I shall not elope with Lady Freda Barran.” 

“ I don’t think you will. But, for once in a way, 
I’ll take all risks and confess that I hope you aren’t 
going to play golf with her again tomorrow.” 

“ I couldn’t if I would, because she is leaving 
tomorrow, and I wouldn’t if I could, because you 


THE DUNRIDGE IJNKS 


123 


and I are going to shoot. Look here, old man, as 
soon as ever I fall in love with anybody, possible or 
impossible, you’ll hear of it fast enough. I wish you 
would try not to be set against Lady Freda, though, 
for I’ve an idea that she’ll become a rather particular 
friend of mine.” 


CHAPTER XI 


THE SELF-INVITED GUEST 

The Duke of Branksome, who had had ample 
opportunity of judging, may have been correct in 
calling his daughter no better than a man-trap ; but 
those illegal engines were only, in the era of their 
employment, a terror to trespassers, and no man can 
trespass upon land which is beyond his reach. Con- 
sequently, Guy’s anticipation that her ladyship was 
destined to become a particular friend of his received 
no prompt fulfilment. After six happy weeks at 
Stone Hall, during which she was neither mentioned 
nor often remembered by him, he returned to hard 
labour, Liverpool holding him fast, save for a short 
Christmas holiday, until the following February, 
when Messrs. Cleland and Son’s London office was at 
length opened and he was sent up to assume control 
of it. He was at that time very busy, very well 
contented with himself, his avocation, his maturing 
schemes, and very highly esteemed by old Mr. Cleland, 
who, being in London for a day or two, called in 
Chester Square to deliver a panegyric upon him. 

“ Marvellous business capacity, my dear sir, simply 
marvellous ! Seems as if he couldn’t make a mistake 1 
He won’t convert me into a millionaire, because there 
124 


THE SELF-INVITED GUEST 125 


isn’t going to be time, but he’ll die a millionaire him- 
self, unless I’m much mistaken.” 

Paul, whose opinion was that exceptional ability 
may be turned to many ends more satisfying than the 
accumulation of wealth, rejoiced nevertheless in the 
young fellow’s achievements and rejoiced more 
especially in his regained companionship. Not that 
Chester Square saw much of Guy between the hours 
of breakfast and dinner or that it was by any means an 
everyday event for him to dine at home. He had 
so many sides, so many interests, so large and hetero- 
geneous an acquaintance that he was in constant 
request, and, as he scarcely knew what it was to be 
tired in piind or body, life in London suited him well 
enough. Like Paul, he loved country life, country 
sports, fresh air, the sense of space and freedom ; but, 
unlike Paul, he did not pine for these things when they 
were not to be had. 

“ Entbehren sollst du — sollst entbehren ! ” he quoted, 
one evening, shaking an admonitory forefinger at the 
latter, who had permitted himself to speak regretfully 
of wild-fowl with nobody to shoot them. 

Paul laughed shortly and sighed long. “To whom 
do you say it ! ” he ejaculated; though indeed the 
young philosopher was not very likely to guess how 
apposite was his apostrophe. 

When one’s time is fully engaged and all one’s 
immediate wants are met, it is no very hard matter 
to forgo superfluous luxuries. Guy’s omission to 
call in Green Street, however, was not the outcome of 
self-denial but of sheer, discreditable oblivion. 

“ I’m sorry,” he ingenuously told Lady Freda on 


126 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


that March afternoon when he was so fortunate as to 
find her at home and alone, “ but the fact is that I 
clean forgot until today about your kindly telling me 
I might look you up. I’ve had such heaps of things 
to do this last month.” 

There was no hint of mortification in Lady Freda’s 
twinkling, half-closed eyes nor any ring of displeasure 
in her laugh. She seemed to be genuinely diverted, 
and so, no doubt, she was; for if it was a novel 
experience to her to hear that she had dropped out of 
memory, she had absolute confidence in her power 
to prevent the recurrence of such a lapse. 

“ You’re a nice boy ! ” she remarked. “ What do 
‘ heaps of things ’ mean ? Heaps of appointments 
with chorus girls, I suppose.” 

Guy shook his head. “ My appointments are 
mostly in the City, with shipping agents and emigra- 
tion agents and people of that sort. It’s only once 
in a blue moon that I manage to get away from them 
as early as this.” 

“ Come later next time, then. We agreed that you 
were to come often, didn’t we ? ” 

She pushed him into a low chair, giving him tea 
and waiting upon him with a half -jocular, half- 
affectionate solicitude which he could not find dis- 
agreeable. Her diminutive dwelling was not very well 
furnished and would have revealed itself at a glance 
to feminine eyes as that of a woman who either did 
not take the trouble to look after her servants or did 
not care to have pretty surroundings. The flowers 
looked as if they had not been changed for several 
days, nor the lace curtains for several weeks ; there 


THE SELF-INVITED GUEST 127 


was an untidy litter of newspapers and invitation- 
cards on the only table. But Guy was not critical of 
such details ; he was not even critical of this unde- 
niably handsome, engagingly familiar lady, into whose 
conversation some rather queer phrases and senti- 
ments found their way every now and then. Had 
she not already told him that her life was spent in a 
deplorable milieu ? He was told it all again, and was 
moved to compassion, as before, and how could he do 
otherwise than like one who made no secret of her 
liking for him ? Probably (for she was an indolent, 
stupid sort of woman, who saw little difference 
between one man and another, save that some were 
good-looking, while others were not) it was without 
diplomatic design that she began to ask questions 
relating to her visitor’s business pursuits. She had 
never before met anybody who was really keen about 
commerce, viewed as a sport or amusement; so the 
phenomenon struck her as rather funny and interest- 
ing. Thus she incidentally strengthened a hold which 
she would have acquired in any event, and when Guy 
rose to take his leave he willingly promised to return 
on the next day but one. 

Lady Freda Barran had the name of advertising 
her flirtations. It was one amongst many habitual 
exhibitions of bad taste with which she was re- 
proached, and it had done her more harm than all 
her alleged delinquencies. Whether she enjoyed the 
triumph of proclaiming a fresh conquest or whether 
she simply did not care what people said about her, 
so long as she was amusing herself, may be doubtful ; 
but either way admirers and intimates of hers had 


128 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


to expect that notoriety would be thrust upon them. 
Some of them objected to this; most fatuously 
welcomed it ; only a few, like Guy Hilliar, accepted 
it as adventitious and unimportant. His wide ac- 
quaintance had points of contact with her narrower 
one; meetings were easily arranged, and if tongues 
soon began to wag, how was he to help that ? He 
might think her fancy for dining at a restaurant with 
him and going on to a play a trifle indiscreet ; but he 
could scarcely tell her so. It was her nature to be 
indiscreet, and she had (by her own account) so few 
pleasures, and, after all, there was no harm in it. 

But when, in the not unnatural sequence of events, 
he found himself assuring Mrs. Baldwin that there was 
no harm in it, that annoyed lady retorted that the 
guilt or innocence of such proceedings as his was not 
the question. What mattered, and what she was 
afraid might matter rather seriously to him if he did 
not take care, was breaking the rules. Social restric- 
tions, Heaven knew, were far from rigorous; but 
certain things were forbidden by common consent, 
and nice people fought shy of those who did them. 

“ Of course, if you don’t mind making yourself 
conspicuous and ridiculous by sitting in that woman’s 
pocket at the few private entertainments to which 
she is still asked, it may be your affair; but I hear 
that you make a positive practice of dining with her — 
or rather giving her dinner, for I’m sure she doesn’t 
pay ! — in public places where you are certain to be 
recognised. I do feel that I ought to say something 
to you about it, even at the risk of being told to mind 
my own business.” 


THE SELF-INVITED GUEST 129 


Guy made no such discourteous rejoinder; though 
perhaps he gave almost equivalent offence by merely 
smiling and venturing to hope that poor Lady Freda’s 
name was not to be removed from the Cromwell 
Road visiting-list. The struggles of his monitress to 
reconcile an ingrained love of strict propriety with a 
strong disinclination to flout the peerage had often 
amused him. 

“ I’ve struck her off already,” was Mrs. Baldwin’s 
unexpected answer. “ Don’t force me to treat you 
in the same way, that’s all ! ” 

Audrey laughed when this alarming threat was 
reported to her. “ Poor mother ! No ; I don’t think 
there’s much fear of her forbidding you the house, 
whatever happens. It’s true, all the same, that you’re 
rather exasperating. I myself sometimes feel power- 
fully tempted to box your ears.” 

“Box them,” said Guy, bending his shapely head 
forward. “ Although I don’t deserve it, I shall quite 
like it.” 

“ Oh, I’m not going to do anything that you would 
like. Not that you would like it, for I should take 
care to give you such a smack as you would remember 
for many a long day. Well, I suppose this is a phase 
through which most men of your age have to pass; 
but it makes them insufferable while it lasts. If only 
I could get you to see your Lady Freda with my 
eyes ! ” 

“ Why not try to see her with mine ? She isn’t 
half a bad fellow really.” 

“ I’m sure she isn’t,” answered Audrey drily ; “ I’m 
sure there are no half measures about her. Tem- 

K 


130 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


porary measures, perhaps. You, for example, are a 
temporary measure, and if Lord Dunridge hadn’t 
broken his leg on the last day of the steeplechasing 
season ...” 

“ Ah, exactly, Lord Dunridge ! There’s an instance 
of the rot people talk. She has told me all about Lord 
Dunridge.” 

“ And I daresay she will tell Lord Dunridge all 
about you ; only she isn’t very likely to tell either of 
you all about herself. , Now, if it’s the same thing to 
you, we’ll talk cricket and forget the lady.” 

All his life long Guy had done what had seemed 
good in his own eyes, defeating opposition or ignoring 
it, as the case might be ; yet there were two persons 
whose sway over him he was ever ready to acknow- 
ledge. One of them, as has been seen, rather con- 
temptuously declined to exercise it in the present 
crisis; the other remained obstinately silent. Paul 
of course knew — for that matter, Mrs. Baldwin deemed 
it her duty to let him know — what was going on ; but 
an almost morbid dread of preaching and a conviction 
of the futility of saying more than he had already 
said closed his lips. He hoped that perhaps the 
young man would speak, and it was scarcely surprising 
that he hoped in vain. So Guy and Lady Freda 
continued to do no harm in a style which might have 
failed to convince a British jury of its harmlessness. 

Captain Barran, who had been absent at Newmarket 
and elsewhere, turned up in London for the Derby 
week and appeared to view his wife’s latest hanger-on 
with a sort of impatient disdain. He was not very 
civil ; but he was so seldom at home and so frugal of 


THE SELF-INVITED GUEST 131 


speech when there that it was difficult either to 
discover what his sentiments were or to arrive at any 
impartial estimate of him. Impartial Guy could not 
be, since he believed what he had been told; but if 
he had been left to judge for himself, he might very 
likely have set Captain Barran down as a henpecked 
husband. 

“ Oh, do go away somewhere, Jimmy ; you’re 
getting on my nerves ! ” Lady Freda would exclaim ; 
and Jimmy would go without a word. On his way 
out he generally cast a glance at Guy which seemed 
to say rather distinctly, “You young ass ! ” — but he 
exhibited no jealousy nor any reluctance to make 
himself scarce. 

Was there cause or excuse for jealousy on Captain 
Barran’s part ? Absolutely none, Guy would have 
affirmed during the early days of his intimacy with 
Lady Freda; but, as time went on, the proverbial 
fate of those who play with fire overtook him. Some 
scorching of the fingers was, indeed, inevitable, seeing 
that he was made of flesh and blood and that he had 
to do with a woman who understood men generically, 
if she understood very little else. Yet she was 
maladroit enough. As soon as she felt sure of him, 
she began to make demands upon his allegiance which 
might well have cost her the loss of it. Recklessness 
up to a given point he thought rather good fun ; but 
there were places to which he did not like escorting 
her and houses to which he did not care about being 
unceremoniously introduced by her. The more he 
demurred, however, the more she insisted : it was 
as if she took a perverse pleasure in proving to him, 
K2 


132 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


against his will, how fictitious was the original portrait 
of herself which she had drawn for his beguilement. 
The climax was reached when she heard that he was 
going to a garden-party at Weir Cottage and stated 
her intention of accompanying him thither, although 
she had not been asked. 

“ Oh, you couldnH do that ! ” he remonstrated, in 
dismay. 

“ Why not ? Because your fat friend forgot to 
send me a card ? ” 

“ But — perhaps it wasn’t that she forgot,” the 
young man hesitatingly suggested. 

“ Perhaps it wasn’t,” assented Lady Freda, with 
much composure. “ Perhaps you know it wasn’t ? 
Ah, then, that quite decides me. I wasn’t sure that I 
cared about her silly old function, but I’m sure I shall 
enjoy giving her a lesson in manners. We’ll motor 
down together and you shall see me administer it.” 

Here was a pleasant prospect ! Guy desisted from 
expostulation because he had discovered by this time 
that to thwart Lady Freda was merely to whet her 
appetite. His one hope was that she might forget a 
date of which he was careful not to remind her. He 
himself was in no danger of forgetting it ; for Walter 
Cleland, who had lately been sent to act as his coad- 
jutor in the London office, was full of the open-air 
tableaux vivants which were to be the chief feature 
of Mrs. Baldwin’s riverside levy. Young Cleland — 
“ always so clever and useful,” said Mrs. Baldwin, in 
whose favour he now stood high — was organising 
these, and had received special instructions to do so 
without including Guy. 


THE SELF-INVITED GUEST 133 


“ It’s her loss and ours, not yours,” Wattle apolo- 
getically remarked ; “of course you aren’t eager to 
pose as a type of masculine beauty. All the same, I 
don’t know why she should say that she doesn’t wish 
people to think you an intimate friend of the house 
just at present.” 

Guy knew, and groaned in spirit. Unless, by the 
mercy of Heaven, Lady Freda should change her 
mind, or the rain should descend in torrents, or the 
motor break down between London and Maidenhead, 
he must put the extinguisher upon intimate friendship 
by providing Mrs. Baldwin with an impromptu tableau 
which was likely to eclipse anything devised by the 
innocent Wattle. 

None of the above saving contingencies occurred, 
and it was late on a perfectly lovely afternoon that 
he was whirled up to the door of Weir Cottage with 
a companion whose serenity he envied rather than 
admired. Lady Freda was in the best of tempers. 
For one thing, she was looking extraordinarily well in 
a pale blue costume and a huge hat, slightly in advance 
of the then prevailing fashion; for another, she 
delighted in manifestations of audacity ; finally, the 
unconcealed misery of her fellow-sinner gave the 
measure of his subservience. 

“ Buck up ! ” was her admonition to him, as she 
stepped out of the car, flung off her dust-cloak and 
prepared to walk across the lawn; “the old lady 
won’t kill and eat us.” 

The pair could not have timed their arrival more 
neatly from the point of view of one of them or more 
disastrously from that of the other. The tableaux 


134 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


had just come to an end; the spectators, grouped 
round a charming grassy amphitheatre, had risen 
from their seats, but had not dispersed; so Lady 
Freda Barran and Mr. Hilliar, announced in stentorian 
accents, advanced under the concentrated gaze of 
some three hundred pairs of eyes. It was perhaps the 
first time in his life that Guy had felt thoroughly shy. 
The three hundred, it was true, would not know, unless 
they were told, that Lady Freda was an unbidden 
guest; but he had little hope of their being allowed 
to remain long in ignorance. He did not dare to look 
at Mrs. Baldwin, of whose proximity he was only made 
aware when he heard Lady Freda drawl out : 

“ How do you do ? We were told you had some 
sort of a show on — Punch and Judy, is it ? — so we 
thought we’d look in upon you.” 

The impudence and the significance of the “ we ” 
were not lost upon him — nor upon an outraged hostess 
either, it might be conjectured — but he could only 
hold his breath, waiting in cold apprehension for what 
was to follow. Nothing followed. In another mo- 
ment he was moving on, speaking to various people 
who accosted him, grateful for the unexpected for- 
bearance of his hostess, whose hand he had a confused 
impression of having taken. The truth was that 
Mrs. Baldwin had been too staggered to display overt 
resentment and, by receiving Lady Freda in absolute 
silence, had done what was no doubt the most dignified 
thing to do. None the less, but rather the more, was 
she furious with both of the transgressors, and if for 
a moment she had seemed to condone their offence, 
that was not because she had any notion of permitting 


THE SELF-INVITED GUEST 135 


it to go unpunished. After a time Guy espied her 
talking rapidly and vehemently to Paul, upon whose 
grave countenance vexation was writ large. Of 
course the old man was vexed ! He had every right 
to be, and so had Mrs. Baldwin. The whole situation 
was odious; but unhappily there seemed to be no 
immediate prospect of escape from it. Lady Freda, 
who had come across some acquaintances, had 
advanced to the front with them; the entire assem- 
blage were resuming their seats; apparently some 
further spectacle was about to be provided for them. 

“ Oh, it’s Wattie and his monkey tricks,” muttered 
Guy, as he sank down upon the grass in the back- 
ground, glad to take cover behind a human screen. 

Walter Cleland possessed the gift of mimicry in 
a degree which might have been worth thousands to 
him at the music-halls, had he not possessed other 
means of growing rich. He was now giving a series 
of impersonations of well-known public characters — 
statesmen, actors and so forth — in which he was aided 
neither by voice nor costume, yet which met with 
instant and delighted recognition. It was very clever 
and very funny ; but it made no appeal to one dejected 
member of the audience, who had never felt less 
inclined to laugh. What he had an almost irresistible 
inclination to do was to take to his heels, and he was 
actually wondering whether such a craven course was 
altogether out of the question when somebody touched 
him lightly on the shoulder. As soon as he saw who 
it was, he jumped up and hastened to forestall rebuke 
by an abject admission of guilt. 

“ Oh, there’s no name for it ! — I quite agree ! You 


186 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


do well to be angry, and I acknowledge the justice 
of every word that you haven’t said. Only, if you 11 
believe me, I’m most awfully sorry ! ” 

But Audrey, strange to say, did not seem to be 
angry. “ You needn’t tell me that,” she answered, 
laughing a little ; “ your face speaks out loud for you. 
Of course you couldn’t have wished to inflict a 
deliberate affront upon mother.” 

“ No ; but of course she will think I did.” 

“ That’s just it, and that’s why you must get Lady 
Freda to go away without taking leave. Can you 
manage that ? ” 

“ I’ll try.” 

“You really must. Otherwise things will be said 
which can only be washed out in blood. I’ll under- 
take to make your peace with mother somehow or 
other before you see her again ; but if you go near her 
now, I answer for nothing ! ” 

Audrey slipped away without waiting to be thanked, 
and not long afterwards he was enabled, by good luck, 
to give effect to her advice. Perhaps Lady Freda, 
who had been much amused by Walter Cleland’s 
performance, did not think that anything else of an 
amusing nature was likely to occur ; perhaps she was 
really surprised on being told how late it was. As for 
the ceremony of saying goodbye, she omitted that 
more often than she observed it, wherever she might 
be, and she allowed herself to be hurried off without 
protest. 

“Not half bad,” was her indulgent verdict upon 
the afternoon’s entertainment. “ Quite glad we 
came.” 


THE SELF-INVITED GUEST 187 


“You can’t,” Guy was goaded into retorting, “ be 
anything like as glad as I am that we’ve gone ! ” 
Audrey and Walter Cleland watched the departing 
motor. The former heaved a sigh of relief, while the 
latter, whose round face expressed awe and consterna- 
tion, exclaimed : “ What could have made him do 
such a thing ! Mrs. Baldwin will never forgive him, 
will she ? ” 

“ Oh, I expect that will be all right,” answered 
Audrey cheerfully ; “ she can’t very well help for- 
giving him, you see. But — I don’t think he’ll ever 
forgive Lady Freda.” 


CHAPTER XII 


VAIN VOYAGES 

Audrey knew Guy Hilliar very well, and certainly 
she made no mistake in assuming that Lady Freda 
had disgusted him. As for his never forgiving the 
culprit, that was another affair; though he might 
perhaps have been disposed to break with her, had 
he not, most unfortunately, been told that he could 
do no less. And it was particularly unfortunate that 
Paul, as a rule so measured in his language and so 
chary of issuing anything that could sound like an 
order, should have thought it right on this occasion to 
speak peremptorily. 

“ I quite understand,” said he, “ that the whole 
thing was the infernal woman’s doing. It would be 
absurd to pretend that you were not to blame for 
acting like her accomplice ; still I suppose you should 
be allowed to plead ‘ first fault.’ Don’t let anything 
of the sort happen again, though. She has done 
enough to justify you in dropping her, and drop her 
you must, unless you wish to be dragged down 
permanently to her level.” 

This, it must be confessed, was no judicious way of 
admonishing a self-confident and high-spirited youth. 

Guy, as in honour bound, began at once to take Lady 
138 


VAIN VOYAGES 


139 


Freda’s part, and in endeavouring to persuade his 
hearer he easily persuaded himself that she was 
excusable. Of course she had behaved foolishly; 
there was no denying that she often did behave 
foolishly. On the other hand, she had great and 
constant provocation. Why should people always 
insist upon believing the worst ? If she had the air 
of defying public opinion, it was because public 
opinion was so stupid and uncharitable that she could 
hardly help defying it. 

“ I didn’t want her to thrust herself upon Mrs. 
Baldwin without an invitation; I wish she hadn’t. 
I’ll even say, if you like, that I wish I had refused to 
go with her. But since I did go, I can scarcely make 
that a reason for turning my back upon her, can I ? 
Don’t ask me to be a sneak, old man ; because that’s 
just a little more than I can stomach, even to oblige 
you.” 

The argument was only saved from developing 
into a quarrel by the extreme dread that each man 
had of estranging the other. Neither of them quite 
credited the other with harbouring that dread, 
though both were personally and acutely conscious of 
it, and the inevitable result was that estrangement 
ensued. The elder forbade nothing ; he merely 
stated his views with emphasis and became coldly 
reserved ; the younger conceded nothing, but replied 
goodhumouredly, while allowing it to be seen that he 
was neither convinced nor impressed. 

Mrs. Baldwin, dexterously handled by Audrey, 
accepted the subsequent apology which was her due, 
but was not over and above gracious. 


140 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ I went and saw the Duke,” she announced. 
(“ How you must have enjoyed that ! ” Guy thought.) 
“ I felt that he ought to hear of his daughter’s extra- 
ordinary conduct, and I will tell you exactly what he 
said. He said, ‘ My dear lady, I have ceased to 
wonder at anything that Freda does. I can only 
advise you to cut her, and if the young man has any 
sense he will do the same. The fact is that decent 
people won’t know Freda now.’ Those were his very 
words. I don’t doubt that you’re sorry, and I ask 
for nothing better than to forget such a very un- 
pleasant episode ; but you must see yourself that you 
can’t very well continue to be that woman’s friend 
and ours.” 

Guy suppressed a smile — suppressed it rather too 
visibly — and observed that it took some courage, no 
doubt, to reject ducal advice. He was afraid, 
though, that he could not throw over his friends at 
anybody’s bidding. Was he to understand that this 
would mean his being thrown over by the oldest and 
most valued of them ? 

Mrs. Baldwin made an impatient gesture. “ Oh, 
if it comes to that, no. For Paul Lequesne’s sake — 
and, in spite of everything, I must say for your own — 
I shall never actually throw you over. But I tell 
you plainly that it will be impossible for us to see much 
of you while this infatuation of yours lasts.” 

The young man could only bow to the above decree 
and go his way. Mrs. Baldwin and Paul were in the 
right ; but so, after a fashion, was he. They had put 
it out of the question for him to do what he might 
perchance have done of his own accord if they had 


VAIN VOYAGES 


141 


been less insistent. He foresaw troubles and perils 
of divers kinds, but did not at all foresee how they 
were to be avoided. In this strait a suggestion from 
old Mr. Cleland that he should proceed shortly to 
Australia, in order to conduct some important 
negotiations on behalf of the firm, was a veritable 
godsend to him. He jumped at the proposal, declared 
himself ready to start at even shorter notice than was 
required of him and booked his passage without more 
ado. It scarcely needs to be added that both Chester 
Square and Cromwell Road signified glad approval. 
That Guy should be willing to absent himself for a 
period of at least four months might surely be taken 
as tantamount to an assertion of liberty on his part ; 
so something in the nature of a general reconciliation 
sweetened the hurry and bustle of last days. 

What Green Street would think and say remained 
to be ascertained. Not without a sense of relief did 
Guy find that his announcement would have to be 
made in the presence of Lord Dunridge, whom he 
encountered in Lady Freda’s drawingroom and who 
turned an interrogative, hostile stare upon him. But 
Lady Freda received the news with an unconcern 
which, if it was not genuine, was admirably counter- 
feited. 

“ Australia ? — how beastly for you ! The voyage 
out takes an eternity, doesn’t it ? And nothing 
particular to do when you get there, I should think. 
Oh, business, yes; I forgot you were a man of 
business. By the way, aren’t there gold mines in 
Australia ? Find out about them on the spot and 
buy me some shares in one that has a rise in it, won’t 


142 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


you ? Heaven knows I could do with a whole gold 
mine to myself ! ” 

Lord Dunridge let out an abrupt laugh and re- 
marked, “ I believe you ! ” 

“ Sneers at the poor and needy,” said her ladyship, 
“ come with a bad grace from people like you. Dun, 
who are wallowing in unearned increments. I only 
wish you knew what it is to have a dressmaker 
demanding payment of a four figure bill ! ” 

“ I know all right,” was Lord Dunridge’ s, perhaps 
unexpected, reply. 

Did Lady Freda look disconcerted for an instant ? 
If so, it was but for an instant, and she did not change 
the subject. Bankruptcy, she averred, stared her in 
the face. “ All your fault too, Dun, for putting me 
on to wrong ones ever since the flat-racing season 
began. I don’t believe you know anything about 
horses really, except how to ride them.” 

She addressed nearly the whole of her conversation 
to the somewhat sullen and taciturn personage whom 
she had once described as more her husband’s friend 
than hers ; she took little further notice of Guy, who 
soon rose. He was, to tell the truth, a trifle chagrined 
and rather more than a trifle surprised. No doubt, if 
he had been better versed in women’s ways, he would 
have guessed that he was intended to be both : as it 
was, he laughed at himself, without much mirth, 
while descending the stairs, and wondered whether 
somebody else was not already laughing at him. On 
a sudden somebody else removed that uncomfortable 
apprehension from his mind. 

“ Mr. Hilliar ! ” called out Lady Freda’s voice from 


VAIN VOYAGES 


143 


the landing. “ Come back, please ; I forgot to give 
you a message for Mr. Lequesne.” 

But it was no message for anybody save himself 
that she had to impart when he obeyed her summons. 

“ Let me have your address,” she whispered 
hurriedly, “ and write to me. Write by every mail ! 
It’s all I shall have to look forward to in the bad time 
coming.” 

He went away a little elated, after all. Not being 
quite a fool, he could not miss the significance of that 
hasty and agitated leave-taking; yet there was no 
need to draw the ugliest conclusions from her evident 
fear of giving umbrage to her other visitor. Very 
likely the man admired her ; very likely her husband 
owed him money and she simply could not afford 
to offend him. Not a very dignified position to 
occupy; but one which had probably been forced 
upon her and which merited pity rather than scorn. 
Pity, indeed, had from the first been Guy’s dominant 
sentiment with regard to Lady Freda, and we all know 
to what that sentiment is proverbially akin. Upon 
the whole, he was glad that she wanted to hear from 
him, glad that she had not meant to snub him, not 
very sorry that he was bound for the antipodes. 

That antipodean reconnaissance of his proved 
fruitful in successes, new lights, prospects of profitable 
enterprise for the firm of Cleland and Son, in which he 
was really more absorbed than in anything or anybody 
else. At Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane his youth, 
his quick intelligence and his goodhumoured determina- 
tion to get his own way not only won him many friends 
but enabled him to brush aside all obstacles. Windy 


144 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


New Zealand, whither he proceeded in the spring of 
the inverted year, detained him for some additional 
weeks, and, as he eventually decided to return to 
England by long sea, in order that he might visit Rio, 
with which port the Cleland steamers were in inter- 
mittent communication, it was not until December 
that London saw him once more. During his absence 
letters had reached him as frequently and regularly as 
his movements by land and sea would allow — long and 
affectionate letters from Paul, who was wont to be 
less reserved with his pen than with his tongue; 
occasional short ones from Audrey ; voluminous 
scripts, dealing in about equal measure with business 
matters and theatricals, from Wattie. As for Lady 
Freda, she shone in the character of a correspondent 
after a fashion which might have astonished those 
who only knew that she was indolent, unimaginative 
and not over well educated. Precisely in virtue of 
the above attributes she produced careless, badly 
spelt, natural compositions which had all the effect 
of speech and which hit their mark as unerringly as if 
she had had wit enough to take deliberate aim. They 
were alive, those effusions of hers, and they kept, 
for their recipient, life in the emotions which her 
bodily presence inspired. Of course she was frankly 
egotistical ; it would never have entered into her head 
to be anything else. She did not ask, and doubtless 
did not care to know, what her distant friend was 
about ; but she did want to tell him that she had had 
luck, or the reverse, at bridge, that Jimmy was too 
close-fisted for words, that she was staying in a house 
where the women were banded together to entreat 


VAIN VOYAGES 


145 


her despiteful! y, and so forth. Always and in par- 
ticular that she was bored — hideously bored ! Such 
interjected phrases as “ I miss you awfully ” or “I 
want you every day ! ” or “ How I wish you were 
here ! ” seemed to come from her heart. Possibly 
they did. 

The wanderer, who had only named an approximate 
date for his return home, gave Paul a pleasant surprise 
by walking into the Chester Square study, unan- 
nounced, one afternoon. Bronzed by southern suns 
and salt breezes, he looked the very picture of health, 
as he stood, smoking a pipe, with his back to the fire, 
and all he had to say went towards showing that his 
mental condition was not less sound than his physical. 
Naturally, he had a great deal to say. He discoursed 
long and cheerfully to a pleased listener, and, since 
he claimed to have learnt no end of things, it seemed 
reasonable to hope that he might have forgotten 
some. 

Paul expressed that hope, the next evening, to 
Mrs. Baldwin, who had amiably consented to dine with 
her old friend at the shortest notice and add her 
welcome to his. 

“ At Guy’s age,” he remarked, answering a direct 
query from her, “ six months in changed and changing 
scenes should amply suffice for purposes of oblitera- 
tion. Perhaps, if the truth were known, there wasn’t 
so very much to obliterate. He hasn’t mentioned her 
name yet.” 

“ Oh, he wouldn’t do that,” Mrs. Baldwin observed. 

“ Well, then, he hasn’t been to see her either. I 
can account for every minute of his time today. Her 

L 


146 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


ladyship, I suspect, is an extinct volcano, if she ever 
was an active one — which I am inclined to doubt.” 

“ Women of her variety,” said Mrs. Baldwin, “ are 
in chronic eruption, like Stromboli. That, so far as 
it goes, may lessen their destructiveness, perhaps. I 
mean, she may be in pursuit of some fresh prey by 
this time; let us hope she is.” 

Guy did not so much as know whether Lady Freda 
was in London or not. He proposed to find out soon ; 
but such leisure time as he had during his first few 
days was willingly given to Audrey and Wattie 
Cleland, with whom it was delightful to be once more 
upon the old footing of familiarity. The latter, it 
struck him, was upon a somewhat more familiar footing 
in Cromwell Road than of yore and was somewhat 
more avowedly Audrey’s bondsman. Poor Wattie ! 
Well, every man, this young philosopher supposed, 
must needs pay tribute to the other sex in some shape 
or form, and a palpably hopeless attachment has the 
double advantage of being proof against disappoint- 
ment and providing an outlet for natural instincts. 
He was not very far from regarding Lady Freda as 
his own safety-valve : probably he was the very first 
person to associate her with the idea of safety. 

Of course Guy was alive to certain dangers and 
dilemmas which might arise out of resumed relations 
with a lady who rather relished than dreaded such 
things; these, however, he hoped, with a little luck 
and dexterity, to evade. If he had not been con- 
spicuously dexterous in the past, he had at least been 
taught what to evade for the future, while his luck, 
in that connection, had hitherto been so bad that it 


VAIN VOYAGES 


147 


might fairly be expected to turn. Unfortunately, as 
every gambler knows, luck, good or bad, is much more 
likely to run in series than to alternate. Considering 
that the metropolis has some thirty or forty theatres 
and between four and five millions of inhabitants, 
Guy might justifiably have assumed (if he had thought 
about the matter at all) that in going to a play with 
the Baldwins and Wattie Cleland he took but an 
infinitesimal risk of encountering Captain and Lady 
Freda Barran. Nevertheless, there they were, seated 
in the next row of stalls behind him, and waved 
salutations necessarily followed mutual recognition. 
None were vouchsafed by Mrs. Baldwin, who, after 
glancing over her shoulder, developed a severe rigidity 
of spine. As for Guy, he said to himself that this 
was rather a nuisance, but that, after all, it might 
have been worse. For one thing. Lady Freda was 
attended by her husband, which was unwontedly 
conventional of her, and, for another, she was beyond 
speaking distance. The only question was whether 
he could possibly help approaching her and shaking 
hands after the first act. He was spared the respon- 
sibility of decision by Captain Barran, who pushed 
his way up immediately after the curtain had dropped 
and said, with his customary economy of words : 

“ How are you ? My wife wants you to talk to her. 
I’m going to have a smoke.” 

Even Mrs. Baldwin must have seen that such an 
invitation could not be declined, whatever she may 
have thought of the taste exhibited in despatching 
it. It was Audrey who, without turning her head, 
murmured under her breath, “ Don’t ! ” 


148 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


The young man understood. An opportunity had 
been given him of doing now what Audrey doubtless 
hoped and expected that he would end by doing. 
But the difficulty was that he did not intend to fulfil 
Audrey’s anticipations in that respect; so he whis- 
pered hurriedly, “ Must, I’m afraid ! I’ll be back in 
half a minute.” 

Well, it was really very pleasant to see Lady Freda 
again. Pleasant, too, to find her so unmistakably 
glad to see him, as well as generously willing to condone 
a remissness for which he could do no less than crave 
pardon. 

“ I saw in the papers that your steamer had 
arrived,” she said; “ so I was beginning to wonder a 
little why you didn’t ring the door-bell. But never 
mind ! The great thing is that you’re back. Now 
when are we to meet ? Because this can’t be called a 
meeting, can it ? ” 

It certainly could not be made into a private and 
confidential one, nor was it of long duration; for 
before the entr’acte was at an end Captain Barran 
returned and Guy was fain to rise. 

“ Jimmy,” said Lady Freda, “ you don’t want to 
see the end of this piece, do you ? ” 

“No,” answered her nominal lord and master 
concisely. 

“ Then be off to your club, or whatever it is that 
you’re pining for.” 

Captain Barran looked doubtful. “ Better see you 
home first, hadn’t I ? ” he suggested. 

“ I’m not going home ; I’m going to finish the even- 
ing with bridge at Mrs. Beaumont’s. I’m sure Mr. 


VAIN VOYAGES 


149 


Hilliar won’t mind putting me into a cab when the 
thing is over.” 

“ Right ! ” responded Captain Barr an, and so 
departed, without further waste of God’s great gift of 
speech. 

It was a slightly dismayed man who prepared to 
drop into his vacated stall ; but Lady Freda was, for 
once, reasonable and considerate. 

“Oh, you be off too!” said she, laughing; “I 
mustn’t get you into trouble with your Baldwins a 
second time. You might come back after the next 
act, though, if they’ll let you.” 

He did that without asking for permission. Per- 
haps Audrey may have been aware that Captain 
Barran had quitted the theatre, but Mrs. Baldwin, 
more resolute than Lot’s wife in the repression of 
feminine curiosity, had not looked round, did not 
mean to look round, and consequently could not tell 
whether or not Guy, when he stepped past her, was 
bent upon the legitimate solace of a cigarette. 

It appeared that he would have time for one, since 
Lady Freda, the moment that he drew near, an- 
nounced her own retirement. “ I’ve had enough of 
this ; I’m going home. Take me out and call a taxi 
for me, will you ? ” 

“You have changed your mind about joining the 
bridge party, then ? ” said Guy. 

“No, I haven’t changed it; I never had the 
slightest intention of playing bridge tonight. I want 
my own fireside. Don’t you want to come and share 
it with me ? ” 

That was the very last thing that he wanted to 


150 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


do; yet two or three minutes later he was being 
whirled towards Green Street in her company. Most 
of us, in the course of our lives, have been guilty of 
a few extraordinarily foolish actions, and have after- 
wards wondered what on earth made us commit them. 
Guy was often to wonder how he had been induced 
to yield to a request which ought not to have been put 
forward and compliance with which was only too sure 
to lead to distressing results. Lady Freda could have 
enlightened him if she had chosen. A pleading look, 
the light touch of her gloved fingers on his wrist, the 
hint of a sneer at his timidity . . . commonplace, 
threadbare tricks enough ; yet so invariably effective 
and effectual ! Thus Hercules submits to wind wool 
for Omphale, and Samson has his hair cut, and 
innumerable object lessons are furnished to a race 
which persistently declines to take warning by them. 


CHAPTER XIII 


CAPTAIN BARRAN FINDS HIS TONGUE 

Guy Hilliar had never been addicted to introspec- 
tion and self-analysis; had indeed never had much 
spare time to devote to a study which certain philo- 
sophers have pronounced all-important, and which a 
great many people who are not philosophical pursue 
without conspicuous profit to themselves or anybody 
else. Intimate acquaintance with his own character 
and temperament, therefore, neither perplexed nor 
arrested him on his way through the world. Life, 
as he saw it, was an active, vivid affair, compact of 
the most diverse interests and demanding, if the best 
was to be got out of it, an alert mind, as well as a 
sound, hard body. Possibly it was because he pos- 
sessed both qualifications that he was disposed, con- 
sciously or unconsciously, to regard women as occupy- 
ing a subordinate position in the cosmic scheme. He 
liked them, he was not incapable of loving them ; only 
he could not imagine them playing a controlling part 
in the evolution of his career. His theory respecting 
them — so far as he had any formulated theory — was 
that they were in essence incidental. Nevertheless, 
he had several times been impelled to the question 
of whether he was at all in love with Lady Freda 
151 


152 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


Barran, and had always answered, with a smile, that 
he supposed he was — a little. This did not strike 
him as a dangerous condition of things. With the 
pathetic, unwitting arrogance of youth, he believed 
that he was master of himself and that nobody — 
certainly no woman — would ever be able to lead or 
drive him against his will. Consequently, he sat 
silent in his corner of the taxicab ; for it was entirely 
against his will that he was being driven to Green 
Street, and realisation of that fact gave him something 
to think about. 

Lady Freda also remained silent throughout the 
brief transit. But when she had reached home, had 
opened the door with a latchkey and had conducted 
her companion into the familiar, oddly forlorn- 
looking drawingroom which contained so little that 
was feminine, except herself, she threw off her long 
ermine-lined cloak and, with it, her reticence. 

“ So much for old Mother Baldwin ! ” she cried, 
laughing aloud. 

The young man frowned. “ Oh, that’s it, is it ? ” 
said he rather curtly. 

“ Well, I owed her one. Ah, if only one could pay 
off all one’s debts so easily ! ” 

“ You didn’t find it very difficult, I must admit,” 
observed Guy, with a grim face. 

“ What will they do to you ? Forbid you the 
privilege of their acquaintance for ever ? ” 

“Yes, most likely. I shall have no right to com- 
plain if they do, and — ^they happen to be the last 
people in the world with whom I should have wished 
to quarrel.” 


BARRAN FINDS HIS TONGUE 153 


Lady Freda glanced at him quickly from beneath 
her drooped eyelids. 

“ You would rather quarrel with me, then ? Why 
don’t you ? You would be all in the fashion. You 
want to marry the girl, I suppose.” 

“ It’s fortunate for me that I don’t, as she has never 
had any use for me, except in the capacity of a chum, 
and will have no use for me in that capacity hence- 
forth. Is it quite worth while, do you think, to set 
people who are fond of each other by the ears for the 
sake of such a tuppeny triumph as this ? ” 

“ Between ourselves,” answered Lady Freda, sink- 
ing down into a low chair, “ I often doubt whether 
anything is worth while. Well, I seem to have upset 
your little temper, anyhow.” 

“ So that was your second object,” remarked Guy, 
who was decidedly upset and wished her to know it. 
“ You give yourself an amiable sort of character.” 

Abruptly, and as if to offer herself to him under an 
aspect possibly more pleasing, she changed her whole 
tone. “ Don’t be cross with me,” she pleaded in a 
lowered voice, “ because I can’t bear it ! Haven’t 
I had enough to try me ? I did behave well at the 
theatre; nobody could have behaved better until — 
until I saw you and that girl laying your heads 
together, and then the Devil entered into me. I 
oughtn’t to have whisked you off; it wasn’t a nice 
thing to do; but — I wasn’t feeling very nice. How 
would you feel, I wonder, if somebody whom you had 
been longing and longing for months to see came back 
from the other side of the world and never even gave 
himself the trouble to come near you ? ” 


154 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


She held up her hand to check him, as he opened his 
lips. “ Oh, please don’t say you forgot ! You have 
said that to me once, and one doesn’t care about a 
repetition of such compliments.” 

“ I didn’t forget,” Guy began; “ but ” 

“ Very well ; you didn’t forget. Never mind the 
excuses; I’ll forgive. I can’t not forgive; I’m too 
desperately all alone ! Now, if I say I’m sorry, will 
you forgive me ? ” 

He did not believe that she was sorry ; but he saw, 
or thought he saw, that she was hurt, and it was true 
that she had been rather cavalierly treated. His 
wrath began to evaporate. 

“ It’s a pity,” he remarked, with a short, vexed 
laugh, “ that you behaved what you call well at the 
theatre. If you had hauled me over the coals 
then ” 

“As if I could,” she interrupted, “ when we were 
squeezed up into a flock of strangers, like sheep in 
a pen ! But don’t I tell you that I’m not going to 
haul you over the coals at all ? I’m not going to say 
another word about it. Only sit down and stop 
scowling ! ” 

She half rose, stretched out her bare, white arms 
and, laying her hands upon his shoulders, gently 
forced him to seat himself on a footstool beside her 
chair. Then she gave him a long look and a long 
smile. 

Well, she was a beautiful woman. She might also 
be a totally unprincipled one; but that was not his 
reading of her. He only thought her singularly 
imprudent, and under certain conditions imprudence 


BARRAN FINDS HIS TONGUE 155 


is not so very difficult to pardon. Moreover, that plea 
of her loneliness never failed to move him. He knew 
well enough that she had no friends ; he thought the 
world at large was cruelly hard upon her ; he did not 
doubt that she was afflicted with an impossible 
husband. 

Presently she began to give instances of Captain 
Barran’s increased impossibility. Of late, it seemed, 
he had taken it into his head to become jealous. 
“ Jimmy jealous, if you please ! — after all this time, 
and after the obstinately blind eye that I’ve turned 
to his own little ways of amusing himself ! The other 
day he made quite a scene about Lord Dunridge — 
poor Dun, of all people ! Dun isn’t to come to the 
house any more. He will be putting you on the 
proscribed list next.” 

“ I hope not,” said Guy. 

“Don’t let him!” she exclaimed eagerly; “for 
the love of Heaven, don’t let him ! If it came to 
that, there would be nothing left for me but cyanide 
of potassium ! ” 

However, she did not sustain the tragic note. After 
all, she may have reflected, this moment of joyful 
reunion was more appropriate for the soothing and 
cajoling of her hearer than for alarming him. She 
therefore demanded a detailed account of his travels, 
and while he talked — he was soon talking rapidly 
and graphically — she extended her toes to the fire 
and, half closing her eyes, slowly fanned herself. 

The rhythmic swaying of the fan stirred his hair, 
wafting to him the faint odour of Parma violets 
which he associated with her; gradually the last 


156 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


traces of his annoyance were dispelled and he sur- 
rendered himself to the charm of a situation which 
could not but appeal to any man’s senses. Guy, 
it may be owned, liked to hear himself talk; he had 
a great deal to say and said it well; it was evident 
that Lady Freda liked listening to him. The best part 
of an hour slipped imperceptibly away. He was 
merely expatiating upon matters which interested 
him; he was not making love to the listening lady. 
Yet that was what he had every appearance of 
doing; so it was to be regretted that Captain Barran 
should fling the door open and march into the room 
before a change of attitude could be effected. 

Captain Barran, whom three strides brought to 
the hearthrug, looked distinctly formidable. He 
had, of course, as good reason to look so as Guy, 
scrambling hastily to his feet, had for looking un- 
commonly foolish. But all he said, after he had 
glared at his wife in silence for a minute, was : 

“ Thought you told me you were going to Mrs. 
Beaumont’s.” 

“ I changed my mind,” drawled Lady Freda, 
who, for her part, did not appear to be in the smallest 
degree disconcerted. Then she asked, through a 
yawn, “ What brings you home so early ? ” 

“ Since you want to know,” answered her husband, 
“ I wasn’t quite sure that you were speaking the 
truth about Mrs. Beaumont and her bridge party. 
Seems you weren’t.” 

“ Jimmy,” said Lady Freda, continuing to swing 
her fan languidly, “ your manners are deplorable. I 
object to being addressed in that tone of voice.” 


BARRAN FINDS HIS TONGUE 157 


“ Then don’t bring men here at midnight,” returned 
Captain Barran. “ I won’t have it. It isn’t decent.” 

This, at any rate, was plain language — so plain that 
it could hardly be allowed to pass unnoticed by the 
intruder. Yet Guy, generally quick of wit and speech 
in moments of emergency, found himself at a loss. 
Qui excuse accuse, he thought : besides, there was 
really no excuse to be made. The man was evidently 
very angry ; his face was white, his brows were drawn 
together, his lower jaw jutted out combatively. 
Nevertheless, he had himself well in hand, and Guy 
could not help thinking that he cut, upon the whole, 
a better figure than his wife, who got up with much 
deliberation and said : 

“ I’m awfully sorry to have let you in for this sort 
of thing, Mr. Hilliar. Very likely he’ll be sorry too 
when he’s sober,” she added, jerking her fan disdain- 
fully towards her husband. 

“I’m sober,” said Captain Barran shortly; “I 
don’t drink, as you know. I think you might as well 
go to bed now.” 

Was Lady Freda at all frightened ? Perhaps she 
was wondering whether her visitor was, for she con- 
templated him curiously for an instant before moving 
towards the door, which her husband was holding 
open. 

“ Goodnight, Mr. Hilliar,” said she. “ Mind you 
come and see me again soon.” 

She swept out, leaving the two men together. 
She must have perceived that a breach of the peace 
was imminent; but whether she recognised that as 
unavoidable or whether — as seems more likely — she 


158 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


had certain primordial feminine instincts with regard 
to male affrays, she made no attempt, verbal or other, 
to avert it. 

As Captain Barran still held the door open, Guy 
could only assume that he was meant to walk out, 
and this he accordingly did. Upon the landing, 
however, he stood still and broke silence at last. 
“ Perhaps,” he suggested, “ you have something to 
say to me.” 

The other nodded. “ Yes, there’s something. It 
won’t take long. Just step into my den, will 
you ? First door on the left at the bottom of the 
stairs.” 

Captain Barran’s den merited its designation. It 
was a small, comfortless room, with very little in it, 
except a shabby armchair, a writing-table, a pile of 
gun- cases and another pile of japanned tin boxes. 
Over the mantelpiece were crossed foils and a rack 
of riding- whips ; a few coloured prints, illustrative of 
fox-hunting and steeplechasing adventures, hung on 
the walls. The owner of this not very attractive 
retreat had the air of breathing more freely as soon 
as he had gained it. Without any prefatory remarks, 
he took off his coat and said : 

“ Now, young fellow, I’m going to give you a 
good, sound thrashing.” 

That caused Guy also to breathe more freely. It 
simplified things and enabled him to reply : 

“ Thrashing me, or trying to thrash me, will be a 
longish job, and it will be bound to kick up a devil 
of a shindy. Do you want everybody in the house 
to know what we are about ? ” 


BARRAN FINDS HIS TONGUE 159 


“ I said,” repeated Captain Barran doggedly, 
“ that I was going to give you a thrashing.” 

“Yes, I know ; but you didn’t say why. Under- 
stand, please, that I’m not a bit afraid of you. You’re 
heavier than I am, but you’re a good many years 
older, and I’m as active as a cat, besides being fairly 
good with my fists. I’ll venture to promise that you 
don’t touch me once in a quarter of an hour. So I 
needn’t hesitate to tell you that you’re exciting your- 
self about nothing.” 

“ I don’t know what you call nothing,” returned 
the other. ‘‘ I find you here in the middle of the night, 
sprawling at my wife’s feet. That’s enough for me.” 

“ As you please ; but you had better wait half a 
minute. Say, if you like, that it was foolish of Lady 
Freda to ask me to go home with her and foolish of 
me to come. But that’s all there is to be said about 
it. I give you my word of honour that she isn’t what 
you are foolish enough to take her for.” 

Captain Barran’s inexpressive countenance dis- 
played an unusually rapid series of emotions, the final 
and predominant one of which was perhaps dis- 
appointment. It would have relieved him more 
than anything else in the world that he could think 
of to thrash somebody, (as a substitute for somebody 
else who could not be thrashed,) and it looked as 
though he would have to refuse himself his sole avail- 
able solace. For this young donkey was obviously 
speaking the truth, so far as it was known to him. 
Nothing for it, apparently, but to resume the discarded 
coat and remark, with a sigh : 

“ Well, I suppose the fact is that you meant no 


160 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


particular harm and haven’t done any. I accept your 
word of honour for that much. I wouldn’t be in 
such a hurry to pledge it for other people, though, if 
I were you. My wife isn’t what I’m foolish enough 
to take her for, eh ? I wonder what you take her 
for yourself, since you’re so wise ! ” 

Guy was not averse to supplying the desired 
information. He really believed that he could 
diagnose Lady Freda with some accuracy, and, 
although he might well have borne a grudge against 
her for her inconsiderate conduct that evening, he 
had the magnanimity to depict her in flattering 
colours. Also he did not see why he should spare the 
stupid and selfish husband who was in fact to blame 
for all her follies and vagaries. He therefore delivered 
an honest and plain-spoken, if inevitably ludicrous, 
harangue, to which Captain Barran, leaning against 
the mantelpiece, with his back to the fire, listened in 
phlegmatic silence. 

“ Ah,” observed the latter, when the orator had 
concluded; “ so that’s your way of looking at things, 
is it ? Now perhaps you might care to hear mine.” 

“ Oh, I daresay there’s your side of the case,” Guy 
generously conceded. 

“ There’s my side, right enough. Mind you, I 
don’t set up to be a model of domestic virtue; I 
expect I’m pretty much the same as other men whose 
wives don’t make them too welcome at home. But 
I’ll say this for myself, that I’ve been jolly indulgent. 
I never grudged Freda money as long as there was 
any, and I wasn’t badly off when I married her. I 
haven’t said much either about her pretty well 


BARRAN FINDS HIS TONGUE 161 


ruining me by her extravagance, and I haven’t said 
much about her telling me lies when I’ve asked her 
what she owed — ^though that’s a thing I don’t like. 
Times and again I’ve been to my old father-in-law 
to get him to pay up, because I couldn’t pay myself 
— and that’s another thing I haven’t liked. Now he 
says he’ll be hanged if he’ll pay up any more, and I’m 
sure I don’t blame him. Well, I’ve stood being 
fleeced and humbugged and treated like a dog. No 
use in having rows. She went her way and I went 
mine; that was about the size of it. Only I always 
believed until a short time ago that she was straight. 
Straight about other men, I mean. You may have 
heard a different story.” 

“ Oh, there are always sure to be ill-natured 
rumours about pretty women,” said Guy, as Captain 
Barran paused in what was, for him, an almost 
unprecedentedly long speech. “ I certainly did hear 
some gossip connected with Lord Dunridge.” 

“ So did everybody else, it seems ; a woman’s 
husband is always the last to hear. Well, I’ve had 
a row with Dunridge.” 

“ Yes ; Lady Freda told me that you had. She 
couldn’t understand your being jealous of him.” 

“ I expect she could. Anyhow, I had a row with 
him, and I don’t intend any other fellow to take his 
place. Upon my word, I don’t know why I’m saying 
all this to you, unless it’s because you strike me as 
such a decent, honourable sort of — of a damned fool, 
if you’ll excuse my calling you so.” 

“ I’m sure you mean to be complimentary,” said 
Guy, smiling. 

M 


162 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ Really it’s what you are, you know, and if I tell 
you not to show your face here again, you ought to 
be much obliged to me.” 

There was so little doubt about this that the young 
man himself was half tempted to acquiesce. Having 
heard the other side of the case, (and suspecting that 
he had not heard the whole of it either, ) he could not 
help modifying his opinion of Lady Freda’s husband 
— even in some degree his opinion of Lady Freda. He 
still thought, however, that she was misunderstood, 
and he called to mind a rather piteous entreaty of 
hers. 

“ Look here,” said he ; “of course you’re at liberty 
to forbid me your house; but I hope you won’t. 
Whether I’m a damned fool or not, you’re good 
enough to call me decent and honourable — which 
is more than some other fellow might be. And 
don’t you see that there’s bound to be some other 
fellow ? ” 

Captain Barran appeared to be trying to think. 
Perhaps that was always a somewhat laborious 
operation with him. “ I don’t know much about 
you,” he remarked, after a long pause. “ Are you 
a rich man ? ” 

“ Oh, Lord, no ! ” 

“ So much the better for you ! Well, I don’t warn 
you off. Or rather, I do warn you ; but if you won’t 
be warned, that’s your affair. You seem to me to 
offer yourself as a sort of lightning-conductor. Is 
that it ? ” 

“ That’s near enough,” answered Guy, laughing. 

“ Right ! I don’t quite see where the fun comes in 


BARRAN FINDS HIS TONGUE 163 


for you ; but I’ve no quarrel with lightning-conductors 
myself. Have a drink before you go ? ” 

The two men shook hands at parting. It is always 
desirable to avoid scandal, and in so small a house 
scandal must needs have been the outcome of fisti- 
cuffs; yet the interests of one of them might have 
been better served by strife than by peace. 


M 2 


CHAPTER XIV 


REVELATIONS 

Some years ago Londoners addicted to the healthy 
habit of riding in Hyde Park before breakfast were 
accustomed to meet a big grey horse, bestridden by 
a long-legged man of preoccupied and rather melan- 
choly mien. Those who were acquainted with the 
solitary equestrian by name as well as by sight some- 
times informed those who were not that he was Paul 
Lequesne, “ the literary chap, you know,” and not 
unfrequently added that he looked as if he continued 
to give his attention to literature even when he was 
in the saddle. However, he did not always look like 
that, nor was he always alone; for Miss Baldwin, to 
whom he had taken the liberty to present a hack, and 
who had been a crony of his from her childhood, 
enjoyed nothing more than being called for by him 
at an early hour when the weather was fine. There 
was not much to be said for the weather on a certain 
misty morning which saw these two cantering along 
Rotten Row together, except that it was not actually 
wet ; but then if you want to have ocular proof of the 
sun’s existence, you must not inhabit London in 
December. 

“ Any news from Liverpool ? ” the girl inquired, 
as they drew rein. 


164 


REVELATIONS 


165 


“ Oh, yes ; news of a sort. The sort of news that 
I get from him nowadays. A great deal about the 
shipping industry and its engrossing interest.” 

“We had better thank our stars that it supplies 
engrossing interest, hadn’t we ? ” suggested Audrey. 

“ I suppose so. Perhaps he himself thanks his 
stars ; but he tells me nothing. I don’t know whether 
it was wisdom or chance or a genuine business claim 
that took him off to Liverpool in such a hurry.” 

“ A little of all three, I daresay. Anyhow, it’s a 
mercy that he went.” 

“ I suppose so,” answered Paul again. 

Of what had taken place at the theatre he only 
knew as much as Audrey and Mrs. Baldwin had told 
him. The former had not revealed, while the latter 
had not realised, quite everything. Mrs. Baldwin, 
owing to her determination not to bestow a second 
glance upon Lady Freda, had been left under the 
impression that Guy had gone away with her and 
Captain Barran, and the husband’s supposed partici- 
pation in an act of studied rudeness had appeared 
to her to be relatively extenuating. The studied 
rudeness, to be sure, was bad enough ; so it was really 
fortunate that Guy should have departed for Liver- 
pool, in obedience to a summons from old Mr. Cleland, 
before she had an opportunity of saying to him what 
she had said with much emphasis to Paul. 

“ Long may he stay there ! ” Audrey resumed. 
“It’s rather hard on you, but it’s the only remedy 
for him.” 

“ Australia doesn’t seem to have been a remedy,” 
observed Paul dejectedly, 


166 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ No, it doesn’t,” the girl had to admit ; “ Australia 
has been rather disappointing. It ought to have 
cured him, for when he started on his travels, he 
wasn’t. ... At least, I don’t think he was; but the 
truth is that I don’t understand Guy as well as I did 
when he was a nice, athletic, hard-hearted boy. I 
don’t understand the attraction of Lady Freda either ; 
I shouldn’t have thought her the least dangerous — 
to him. Unless it’s dangerous to be merely handsome 
in a superb, unrefined way.” 

“ I’m afraid it is,” sighed Paul. 

“ Well, then, let us be grateful to the shipping 
industry. The things that one is reduced to being 
grateful for ! Some day — as soon as it’s safe — I’ll 
pay Master Guy out for giving you all this worry. 
Meanwhile, don’t worry too much, and don’t take it 
into your head that he has changed to you, because 
that hasn’t happened and never will. You see, this 
isn’t the kind of thing that he could very well talk to 
you about, is it ? ” 

If Audrey did not understand Guy, she had no 
difficulty in understanding a person of more reserved 
character, and if she sometimes caused that very 
sensitive person to wince, she had her reasons. It was 
a great deal better for him, she thought, to be made 
aware that his secret soreness was perceptible to one 
sympathiser than to bottle it up and brood over it 
all alone. 

“ Oh, he has changed,” said Paul ; “ you yourself 
admit that he isn’t what he was. It’s true that he 
couldn’t be. Time, unfortunately, effects transfor- 
mations in everybody.” 


REVELATIONS 


167 


“ Except in you and me. Now do you think we 
might have a mild gallop ? ” 

A very brief space of time, when aided by circum- 
stances, may produce the most salutary transforma- 
tions, and Guy, safely out of the way at Liverpool, 
recognised that his sentiments with regard to a lady 
who had as nearly as possible got him into a horrid 
mess had become qualified. That her husband’s 
account of her had been in the main true he could not 
doubt, and although he might still pity her and still 
believe that she had been in some respects misjudged, 
he was not much disposed to be the victim of further 
caprices. It was, in short, a great stroke of luck that 
the head of the firm should have desired to confer 
with him at a critical juncture, and, being where he 
was, his inclination was to remain there. As it 
happened, he was not really required at the London 
office, the management of which was safe in Walter’s 
hands, while Liverpool afforded a more suitable field 
for the promotion of enterprises upon which he was 
bent. Of course he had to send Lady Freda a few 
explanatory lines, the reply to which he awaited with 
some trepidation ; but at the end of a week she merely 
wrote to say that things might have fallen out worse, 
inasmuch as she was just starting for Monte Carlo 
and probably would not be back before the spring. 
To their last interrupted interview she made no 
allusion, nor did she mention her husband, beyond 
adding in a postscript that he was to escort her to 
the South. “ Troublesome ! — but I suppose there 
will be pigeon-shooting for him while he stays, which 
isn’t likely to be long.” 


168 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


The coast being thus clear, Guy was able to spend 
Christmas in Chester Square, and that short holiday, 
at all events, was marred by no untoward incident. 
Short, however, it had to be. 

“ Can’t help it,” he said to Audrey, who remon- 
strated less on her own account than on Paul’s. “ I’m 
in the very thick of negotiations which are bound to 
stick fast or slide back the moment that I remove my 
shoulder from the wheel. Dear old Cleland knows 
in his heart that I’m right; only he is a trifle too 
advanced in life to have the courage of my opinions ; 
so I must be upon the spot to keep shoving him 
along. By about the middle of next year, I expect, 
everything will be in working order and I shall have 
a chance to pause and mop my heated brow.” 

“ And then ? ” 

“ Ah, I wonder ! Having put that job through, 
one may want to go in for something else, I daresay.” 

“You always do and always will. Is there any- 
thing in the world, Guy, that you care about for its 
own sake ? ” 

“Yes, my dear Audrey, your approval. And want 
is likely to be my master there up to the finish.” 

“You shall have it as soon as ever you deserve it.” 

“Yes, I can see the symbol of it from here I — a 
wreath tenderly laid upon my coffin. Only when 
you have lost me for ever will you appreciate me at 
my true worth.” 

He had somehow failed to appreciate her at hers. 
Vaguely conscious of this from time to time, he was 
accustomed to tell himself that all was for the best, 
considering how the least hint of even semi- jocular 


REVELATIONS 


169 


sentiment exasperated her. But indeed nobody 
could have been much more impervious to the assaults 
of sentiment than he himself was at this period, and 
letters from the Riviera which showed an increasingly 
sentimental tendency left him securely cold. He 
had a feeling for Lady Freda — a very safe, harmless, 
well-controlled sort of feeling, to which perchance 
some indulgence might be accorded when he should 
have a little more time ; but he was quite certain that 
he was not going to make a fool of himself about 
her. 

It is a pity to be quite certain in any case to which 
there are two parties, one of whom is a woman. 
What was really certain was that a tacit challenge to 
Lady Freda Barran would be taken up, and Guy’s 
replies to her letters, together with his obstinate 
refusal to quit the scene of his activities, did in effect 
constitute such a challenge. Many months, however, 
were still to elapse before the calling into requisition 
of weapons only available at close quarters could 
ensue. Summer was at its height when the definite 
amalgamation of several important shipping firms 
with that of Cleland and Son set the triumphant Guy 
free to return to London, and as a matter of course — 
or, at any rate, a matter of courtesy — he was in 
Green Street within twenty-four hours of his arrival. 

It was a wan, listless and faintly smiling lady who 
held out her hand to him and thus threw him off his 
mental balance at the start. He had often seen Lady 
Freda look tired, discontented or cross, but never 
before had she presented herself to him under any 
other aspect than one of perfect physical health; so 


170 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


he was as much shocked and distressed as he made 
haste to announce. But she assured him that she was 
not ill. 

“ I’m all right. At least I shall be now that you 
have come at last. I’ve been a little bit — lonely 
sometimes, you know.” 

She was not a good actress; her pathos was as 
unconvincing as powder and rouge. Yet bad actresses 
are applauded to the echo every night, and pinchbeck 
oratory spurs the emotions of multitudes, and if 
painted faces did not, somehow or other, achieve the 
aim of their disfigurement, they would not, it must 
be assumed, exhibit themselves in such profusion. 
Just because his perceptions were keen Guy was 
impressionable ; also his instincts were generous, 
and he could not bear to think that any woman, not 
to mention a beautiful one, should have fretted over 
fancied neglect on his part. Thus he found himself 
saying things which might very well have been left 
unsaid; thereby evoking perilous rejoinders. There 
is no need to follow the successive steps of the ensuing 
duologue up to that step too far which was its pre- 
destined consummation. It is so easy — given favour- 
ing conditions — to exclaim “ I love you ! ” — so easy 
even to be momentarily sincere in the assertion. 
These stupid things are of daily occurrence and 
scarcely require explaining. Lady Freda’s con- 
clusion, however, may be worthy of record as a some- 
what notable departure from use and wont in such 
amorous conjunctures. 

“ This,” she remarked composedly, “ clears the 
air. Now that we have told one another all there is 


REVELATIONS 


171 


to tell, we can go on being friends without any harass- 
ing arricre pensce.’^ 

The young man, who had been pacing to and fro, 
with a wrinkled forehead, stood still and stared at her. 
“ But — how can we ? ” he ejaculated. 

“ Why shouldn’t we ? I’m content. I knew I 
cared for you; but you didn’t seem as if you cared 
very much for me. Oh, a little, perhaps — not as I 
wanted you to care. So that was rather miserable. 
But I don’t doubt any longer; you have given me 
your word . . 

“ Ah, yes, my word ! ” he broke in, already con- 
scious of having given it in too great haste. “ But, 
you see — well, the fact is I can’t come here again 
without breaking my word. That night last winter 
I pledged my word of honour to Barran . . 

Lady Freda interrupted in her turn by laughing, 
as at some highly diverting reminiscence. “ So he 
told me. Poor Jimmy ! — and poor you ! It must 
have been awfully awkward for you both, but awfully 
comic. He was going to pound you to a jelly, 
wasn’t he ? And then it turned out that you were 
as innocent and transparent as the purest calves’-foot 
jelly, without any pounding. Don’t look so savage. 
He said you were perfectly willing to fight, and he 
wasn’t at all sure that you couldn’t have knocked 
him out of time either. But he was sure you were 
innocent. So you are, you know.” 

Perhaps that is not the precise form of eulogy 
generally coveted by the young, and Guy’s brow 
remained clouded. “ Do you think so — still ? ” he 
asked. 


172 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


She laid the tips of her fingers on his shoulders and 
kissed him lightly. “ Silly boy, of course I do ! ” 
she answered; “ and I love you all the better for it. 
I tell you I’m content ; I ask for nothing more than 
to be loved a little in return. That’s why we’re 
going to be good — and happy.” 

Guy had grave doubts as to whether he was going 
to be happy and some as to whether Lady Freda was 
going to be good. For his own part, he could readily 
enough have aceepted a Platonie attaehment, if 
that were what she wanted; only he hardly saw how 
anything so lukewarm was reconeilable with their 
mutual avowals. Moreover, he did not at all relish 
the notion of playing Captain Barran false — for even 
a Platonic attachment would imply a breaeh of 
faith. He left the house presently with a humbled 
conscience and a hangdog mien. Doubtless, if he 
had been in love with Lady Freda, the easuistry 
employed by all illieit lovers would have eome to his 
aid ; but in love with her he was not, albeit forced in 
sheer self-defenee to assure that humbled conscience 
of his that he was. Her physical charms, it was true, 
had power to stir his blood ; her love for him (whieh 
must surely be real, or why should she have troubled 
her head about him?) flattered his vanity; her 
isolation (whieh was unquestionably a reality) 
moved him to sympathy and eompassion; but her 
hold over him was no stronger than these things 
rendered it. Small wonder was it, therefore, that 
Paul Lequesne had an unusually taeiturn and pre- 
occupied eompanion that evening. 

It is a mattei’ of universal experience that, however 


REVELATIONS 


178 


bad things may have looked overnight, they look 
ten times worse in the morning ; so the fact that Guy 
was able to whistle cheerfully while dressing, the next 
day, speaks volumes for the indomitable vitality 
which was his birthright. He had had no defeats 
in his life; only a few checks and reverses which it 
had been a pleasure to overcome. He was so accus- 
tomed to regard himself as ever victorious that even 
a dilemma from which no honourable or agreeable 
bolt-hole was at present to be discerned could not 
quench his optimism. He put it provisionally away 
from him when he set off for the City to impart 
divers interesting and important items of intelligence 
to the expectant Walter. 

During business hours Walter Cleland was, gener- 
ally speaking, a quiet, serious, heedful person. It 
was, therefore, both surprising and annoying to notice 
that his attention wandered whilst projects of a 
vital and far-reaching order were being lucidly 
explained to him and that every few minutes his 
features were contorted by an ill-suppressed, wholly 
inappropriate smile. 

“ What the deuce is the matter with you ? ” Guy 
exclaimed impatiently at last. “ If you’re seeing 
yourself in some new comic part, might I suggest a 
postponement of the mental rehearsal ? ” 

Wattie apologised. “ Very sorry, old chap. I was 
really listening to every word you said ; only I expect 
I had better make my confession to you before we 
settle down to talk shop. As a matter of fact, I am 
coming out in a new part, and I shouldn’t wonder 
if you were to call it a comic one. Anyhow, it’s 


174 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


astonishing almost to the point of being incredible. 
To put it shortly, I’m going to be married.” 

“ Never ! ” ejaculated Guy. 

The other nodded. “ I’m telling you the sober 
truth. I’m an engaged man; though I still have to 
keep on pinching my leg, so as to make sure that I’m 
myself. You haven’t been round to Cromwell Road 
yet, I suppose ? ” 

“ Not yet. Have they heard about it there ? ” 

“ Heard about it yesterday afternoon,” answered 
Wattie, with an outburst of ecstatic laughter,«“ and 
they were the very first to receive the news too. 
Come, Guy, you know well enough that there’s only 
one girl whom I should ever dream of marrying. Of 
course you thought that she would never dream of 
marrying me, and so did I ; but — well, what’s the use 
of trying to account for miracles ? I give you my 
word I had no more intention of proposing to her 
yesterday than I had of hugging Mrs. Baldwin; 
though I did both those things before I left the house. 
Why I can’t tell you, except that they are just off to 
Switzerland for the rest of the summer and that I 
was rather down in the mouth at the thought of not 
seeing her again for such a long time. In one way 
or another it all came out — and I’ve been standing 
on my head, so to speak, ever since.” 

Guy’s sensations were of a kindred, if less pleasur- 
able, nature. He could not in the least understand, 
and could only with difficulty believe in, Audrey’s 
choice. Certainly Wattie Cleland was a firstrate 
little fellow in his way and might even, from a worldly 
ponit of view, be accounted eligible; but . . . The 


REVELATIONS 


175 


“ buts ” were so numerous and so prohibitory that 
they would hardly bear thinking of at a moment when 
one’s immediate, imperative duty was to say some- 
thing friendly. The friendly speech found more or 
less adequate utterance, getting itself accomplished 
after a fashion, as necessary things always do. Prob- 
ably it rang with as much sincerity as was required, 
since Wattie was encouraged to embark upon a prolix 
narration of events and incidents tending to throw 
light upon an otherwise incomprehensible climax. 
Audrey and he, it appeared, had been a great deal 
together while other people had been wandering round 
the world ; they had found that they thought and felt 
alike about most things ; they had, in a word, become 
fast friends. “ I don’t mean that I had the faintest 
hope of anything beyond friendship; you know how 
she bars love-making ” and so on and so forth. 

Guy listened patiently, interjecting an occasional 
sympathetic murmur when that seemed to be expected 
of him. He was thinking, “ Perhaps it’s all right ; 
I suppose it’s all right. I suppose she’s really as 
prosaic as she insists upon making herself out. But 
why, in the name of common sense, should this con- 
clusive evidence of her being what she is open my eyes 
for the first time to the sickening truth that I have 
loved her myself all along ! ” 


CHAPTER XV 


MR. HILLIAR OF BUENOS AYRES 

When Guy returned from the City to Chester 
Square, he found a post-card, addressed to him, 
on the hall-table, and, after glancing at it, made a 
displeased grimace. 

“ I shall be at home and alone at five o’clock 
tomorrow. Be a dear and come. F.” 

He did not like the wording of the summons, and 
very much less did he like its being despatched on 
a post-card for servants to grin at. Was it out of 
carelessness or perversity that Lady Freda did these 
things ? Either way, he was minded to disappoint 
her, and he would have paid her back forthwith by 
adopting a similar means of intimating that he was 
sorry he couldn’t manage to call, if he had not re- 
membered just in time that his response might fall 
into the hands of Captain Barran, who would, of 
course, be quite entitled to peruse it. Anybody is 
at liberty to read a post-card, and what if Paul, for 
instance, should have happened to read Lady Freda’s ? 
That was a rather disagreeable possibility. 

However, Paul, who was not in the least more 
likely to look at a communication addressed to some- 
body else because it bore a half-penny stamp instead 
of a penny one, knew nothing about the matter. 

176 


MR. HILLIAR OF BUENOS AYRES 177 


What, as presently appeared, he did already know 
was the strange and unwelcome piece of news which 
Guy had to impart to him. Not that he admitted it 
to be unwelcome. He was brief and dry upon the 
subject, merely remarking that it was the natural 
result of two young people having been thrown 
together, he supposed. 

“ Well, but, hang it ! — Wattie Cleland ! ” Guy 
protested. “ And if it comes to throwing people 
together, how about Audrey and me ? We’ve been 
a good deal thrown together, first and last.” 

“ Ah, you were so resolutely opposed to natural 
results ! ” 

“ One of us was, you mean ! Yes, she was pretty 
resolute and explicit in my case, I must confess. 
There wasn’t any occasion to be so in Wattie’s, I 
should have thought. What does Mrs. Baldwin say 
to this ? ” 

“ I gather that she isn’t overjoyed ; but I haven’t 
seen her. Audrey came here this afternoon to claim 
my felicitations.” 

“ Which you refused, I hope.” 

“ Why should you hope that I was so bad-mannered? 
Did you refuse good wishes to your friend ? ” 

“ That’s altogether different. For one thing, he’s 
deeply and honestly in love.” 

“ I have no reason to doubt that she is in the same 
enviable predicament. She told me she was perfectly 
happy, and she certainly looked so.” 

“ Oh, well ! ” answered Guy, with a touch of 
impatience, “ if everybody is satisfied, there’s no 
more to be said.” 

N 


178 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


He had hoped that Paul would say a little more. 
He himself would have been ready, on slight encourage- 
ment, to say a great deal more. He was humbled, 
penitent, sick at heart, anxious for sympathy from a 
quarter whence he might well expect it to be forth- 
coming. Paul, on his side, desired nothing more 
earnestly than to be confided in; only he would not 
solicit confidences. In his heart he deplored Audrey’s 
engagement; in his heart he had always cherished 
a lingering suspicion that she was fonder of Guy than 
she chose to acknowledge, while he knew that Guy 
was, in a manner, very fond of her. But then there 
had been this stupid entanglement with Lady Freda 
Barran, and now, so far as he could judge, the girl 
had really bestowed her affections upon a young man 
who loved her and was worthy of affection. It would 
be rather late in the day to offer advice respecting 
Audrey, even if he were asked for it; though advice 
respecting another person was to be had for the 
asking. The two men sat silent for a space, each 
waiting for the other to make a first move, and waiting, 
as was but natural, in vain. 

“ When do you think of going north ? ” Guy 
inquired at length. 

“ Oh, any day. I should have flitted before now 
if it hadn’t been for the prospect of seeing you here. 
Is there much to detain you in London ? ” 

“ I don’t think so,” answered Guy, after a moment- 
ary hesitation. “ One or two matters, perhaps, 
which may need looking into. You shan’t be detained 
at any rate. I know you’re sighing and dying to be 
off, and, between ourselves, so am I. You won’t 


MR. HILLIAR OF BUENOS AYRES 179 


have been at home long before I’m after you. I’ve 
earned a good solid holiday and I think we’ll spend 
it together, just you and I, shall we ? ” 

Paul’s grave face was transfigured by one of his 
rare smiles. “ Thank you,” he replied simply. 

“ Hang women ! ” Guy burst out on a sudden. 

“ One can’t do that to them, even when they 
deserve it. Sometimes it is possible to commute 
the sentence to banishment.” 

“ H’m ! — sometimes perhaps. At all events, I’m 
not sorry that the Baldwins are going to banish them- 
selves for a bit. Do you know when they start for 
Switzerland ? ” 

“ Yes ; the day after tomorrow.” 

“ So soon ? Then I must make time to go round 
there tomorrow and offer my most insincere con- 
gratulations.” 

It crossed his mind that here at least was an ex- 
cellent excuse for neglecting one member of the sex 
upon which he had passed so sweeping a judgment; 
but indeed he was more in the mood to require excuses 
from Lady Freda than to offer her any. Meanwhile 
it was not impracticable to forget her. Interviews 
with sundry City magnates engaged his attention 
during the whole of the following morning, and in 
the afternoon he willingly took over correspondence 
which Wattie Cleland, who was eager to get away 
early (one could guess why) left him to tackle. He 
took it over willingly because he himself felt no great 
eagerness to pay an obligatory visit of congratulation, 
and as it kept him employed up to rather a late 
hour, he finally decided to postpone the discharge 

N 2 


180 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


of that duty until after dinner. It was no unusual 
thing for him to present himself in Cromwell Road 
during the evening. 

He was just about to quit the office when one of 
the clerks came in to announce that a gentleman 
wished to see him, handing him at the same time a 
card upon which he was a little surprised to read the 
name of “ Mr. Hilliar.” He had always been given 
to understand that he was the sole survivor of his 
family; so this namesake of his, whatever might be 
his errand, could scarcely have called to claim con- 
sanguinity. But the elderly, neatly dressed man 
who presently entered was really a relative, it 
appeared, albeit a distant one. 

“ How distant I should be puzzled to tell you,” 
said he. “I have lived nearly the whole of my life 
in South America, and should have lost touch with 
my people even if they hadn’t all been dead and gone 
long ago. Still I do recollect your father, Jack 
Hilliar — wasn’t his name Jack ? — who died somewhere 
in Spain, I believe, in the year 1891 or thereabouts. 
So you are poor Jack Hilliar’s boy ! Yes, I can see 
that you have a look of him. A distinct likeness; 
though you have improved upon the original, if I may 
take the liberty of saying so.” 

There was something prepossessing about this 
stranger, who had the voice of a gentleman and whose 
clear blue eyes and healthy red-brown face, framed 
in a trim white beard, seemed to indicate a past given 
up to out-door sports rather than to the industrial 
activities by means of which he went on to state that 
his fortune — “ such as it is ” — had been made. It 


MR. HILLIAR OF BUENOS AYRES 181 


was, in fact, upon matters connected with industry 
and commerce that he had wished to see Messrs. 
Cleland and Son’s London representative. 

“ Your firm, I believe, is enlarging its operations, 
and I want you to be more interested than you have 
hitherto been in Buenos Ayres and Bahia Blanca.” 

“ I’m afraid there isn’t much of an opening for us 
at either of those ports,” said Guy. 

“ Oh, pardon me ; there’s still an opening for a go- 
ahead steamship company, such as yours, notwith- 
standing the competition. But it isn’t only as re- 
gards shipping that I should like to make Argentina 
— and perhaps you also — go ahead. I daresay you 
don’t need to be told that Argentina is pretty prosper- 
ous, but I am sure you don’t know — because very few 
people besides myself do — what immense possibilities 
of wealth are still waiting for development in that 
wonderful country.” 

He enlarged upon the topic, talking very well, in 
a quiet, fluent way, and pointing out that facility 
and rapidity of transport were essential factors in 
schemes which he hoped to see operative before he 
died. “ It’s true that I’m no chicken ; but I believe 
I have some years of work left in me yet, and at any 
rate I can’t bring myself to sit still, twirling my 
thumbs, while life and health last. The joy of life 
is to keep moving and keep other people and things 
moving, don’t you think so ? ” 

It was to a kindred spirit that he appealed. Guy, 
stimulated, as always, by a suggestion of new ven- 
tures, took note of what he had been told, promised 
to write to his chief and hoped for further meetings 


182 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


with his genial kinsman. Would not the latter call 
in Chester Square and be introduced to Mr. Lequesne, 
who would certainly be glad to make his acquaintance. 

“ Lequesne ? ” repeated Mr. Hilliar, pricking up 
his ears. “ You don’t mean the great Lequesne, do 
you ? ” 

“ I suppose I do,” answered Guy, laughing. “ I 
mean Paul Lequesne, the critic and essayist. He has 
been a father to me ever since I was a small orphan 
of nine, and I think him great. I don’t know whether 
the world at large does.” 

“ The world at large seldom does honour to men 
who are great in his particular line until after their 
death. Still, he has admirers already, even amongst 
the ignorant, and, as I am one of them, I should con- 
sider it a privilege to be presented to him. He lives 
in London, of course ? ” 

“Well, reluctantly, for a part of the year. He has 
a house in Northumberland which he and I always 
call home, and, by the way, he is going there almost 
at once. If you want to make sure of seeing him, 
why not come and dine quietly with us tonight ? ” 

Mr. Hilliar demurred. “ It’s very kind of you,” 
he answered, with a smile, “ and I should be delighted 
to accept Mr. Lequesne’s hospitality; but I think I 
must wait until he offers it.” 

Guy, however, declared that there was no need to 
stand upon ceremony. “ It’s an understood thing 
that I may ask any friends I please to dine, and if 
the cook sometimes objects to my bringing home 
half a dozen without notice, the master of the house 
never does. Indeed, it’s just what he likes.” 


MR. HILLIAR OF BUENOS AYRES 183 


This was true enough ; and Paul, when warned later 
that a guest was expected who was both a distant 
relative and a diligent student of his works, only 
expressed some natural curiosity as to the man’s 
identity. 

“ I’ve no doubt he’ll tell you what the exact 
relationship is if you ask him,” said Guy. “ I forget 
whether he told me or not ; we were discussing 
Argentina most of the time. But you’ll like him. 
He’s brimful of ideas — information too, I suspect. 
He suited himself to me and talked business; but I 
shouldn’t wonder if he was capable of talking litera- 
ture or metaphysics with you. The impression one 
gets of him is that he wouldn’t be out of his element 
in any company.” 

Such, in effect, was the impression produced upon 
his host by the spruce stranger who was announced 
at eight o’clock and who introduced himself, with an 
engaging blend of ease and deference, as “if not an 
old acquaintance, a very old and appreciative dis- 
ciple.” He was evidently taken with Guy, to whom 
Paul fancied that he displayed at moments traces 
of a family likeness. Certainly the two men seemed 
to resemble one another in character. Something 
buoyant, adventurous, goodhumouredly combative 
which distinguished them both made a bond of union 
between them and commended the elder to a third 
person who was very differently constituted. 

If simila^ dispositions are drawn together like 
magnet and needle, there is also a powerful attraction 
in contrast; so that those whose shoulders have 
been bowed by a sedentary life must needs own the 


184 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


fascination that belongs to brisk, vigorous, flat- 
backed coevals. 

During the early part of dinner Paul remained, 
as was habitual with him, silently observant; but 
before the stage of dessert was reached he had been 
drawn into a conversation from which Guy gradually 
retired. An incidental, though possibly not un- 
designed, allusion of Mr. Hilliar’s to Schopenhauer 
brought about this change of parts. Mr. Hilliar, 
it seemed, had studied the writings of Schopenhauer, 
as well as those of Kant, Spinoza, Descartes and 
other philosophers. Somewhat superfieially, he con- 
fessed; still he had got at the gist of their respective 
theories and did not mind stating in colloquial language 
what he thought of them, even to a scholar and an 
expert. Paul, weary of learned treatises and the 
solemn ambiguity of skilled commentators, found 
this amusing and refreshing. He listened, laughed, 
consented to expound a little, admitted the validity 
of certain common-sense criticisms. 

“ Oh, everybody must be allowed a postulate to 
start with,” he aeknowledged. “ Euclid himself can’t 
get to work without postulates.” 

“ Just so,” returned the other, “ and at that rate 
revealed religion, for instance, stands upon all fours 
with science and philosophy. Postulate for postulate, 
the one best fitted to meet human requirements 
might as well be granted.” 

“ It makes rather more exacting demands than the 
others,” Paul observed. 

“ Doesn’t that depend upon how you look at it ? 
Nothing can be absolutely proved; it’s only by an 


MR. HILLIAR OF BUENOS AYRES 185 


illusion or an assumption that we arrive at what we 
call proof. Christianity may be an illusion and 
Evolution is an assumption. The one is at least 
attractive, picturesque and decisive, whereas the 
other, besides being abominably depressing and ugly, 
leaves the general mystery as dark as ever, after all. 
I’m a Catholic myself,” Mr. Hilliar rather unex- 
pectedly added. 

Paul lifted his eyebrows. “ I shouldn’t have 
gathered that from what you have been saying,” 
he remarked. 

“Well, in the absence of priests one permits one- 
self some liberty of speech. It was a priest in Rosario 
who made a willing convert of me some years ago. 
He wasn’t as exacting as you might suppose, nor 
was I. Of course I had to swallow the Tridentine 
Creed; but I may have swallowed some tougher 
morsels than that in my day. You see, Mr. Lequesne, 
it had to be that or Atheism, and of the two alter- 
natives I preferred Pope Pius the Fourth. To be, 
as I believe you are, a calm, reasonable, moral 
Agnostic one must be a genuine esyrit fort. I re- 
spectfully admire your attitude; only I can’t quite 
rise to it.” 

Paul was not at all fond of defining his personal 
attitude with regard to theology, philosophy or 
ethics. What he had to say upon the point he said 
(and that mostly by inference) in print. If on this 
occasion he departed from custom, it was more be- 
cause Mr. Hilliar excited his interest and curiosity 
than because he felt called upon to explain why he 
himself could do no otherwise than hold Judgment 


186 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


in abeyance. The two had begun to smoke and 
were deep in debate when Guy, slipping quietly out 
of the room, shaped a course for Cromwell Road. 

He found the household in that state of hurry and 
flurry which no woman, be she never so well pro- 
vided with servants, seems able to avoid on the eve 
of a journey, and although he was made verbally 
welcome, he perceived at once that the omission of 
his visit would have been neither noticed nor re- 
sented. Mrs. Baldwin, who was busily writing letters, 
returned to her occupation the moment after she had 
shaken hands with him, while Audrey cut short 
gracefully worded felicitations with — 

“Thanks very much indeed; but I haven’t time 
to talk. Really and truly I haven’t ! Wattie is in 
the dining-room, helping me to put away china that 
we don’t want smashed, and unless I help him to help 
me, he’ll deliver the charwoman from evil by smash- 
ing most of it himself. Sit down and entertain 
mother for a little quarter of an hour.” 

Mrs. Baldwin’s back appeared to symbolise disin- 
clination for entertainment. The intermittent remarks 
which she flung over it proclaimed, further, that she 
was in no genial mood. 

“ You needn’t trouble to say things that you can’t 
possibly mean. Of course I’m as much disgusted 
as you are— or ought to be. . . . She might have 
married anybody ! And then to take this funny 
little nobody, whom one had never thought of, 
except as a sort of good-natured, grown-up errand 
boy! . . . Fond of him? Oh, don’t ask me; I 
can’t pretend to understand Audrey. She says she 


MR. HILLIAR OF BUENOS AYRES 187 


is ; but really, with his utter insignificance and his 
middle-class connections and his turned-up nose and 
all ! . . . Yes, I know he’s well off ; I only wish he 
wasn’t ! Then one might have some excuse for for- 
bidding the banns. Not that there would be much 
use in my forbidding anything. Parents are helpless 
nowadays. Happen what may, one has to grin and 
bear it.” 

Parents and others must needs bear with a young 
lady whose mind is made up. Perhaps it is not 
imperative to grin; and indeed when the betrothed 
pair entered, after the completion of their labours, 
Wattie seemed capable of undertaking all the grinning 
that the case might demand. Audrey, too, was un- 
mistakably, if incomprehensibly, radiant. It was 
difficult to talk to her, difficult to throw a discreet 
veil over regrets which were all the more poignant 
because her manner showed that she had no faintest 
suspicion of their existence. Guy, who got up as 
soon as he could, was not pressed to linger. 

“ We shall be back by the beginning of October,” 
were Audrey’s parting words. “ Look us up if you 
are in London then ; but I rather hope you won’t be. 
I hope you’re going to give the whole autumn to Stone 
Hall and Mr. Lequesne.” 

Guy hoped so too. He hoped, at any rate, that it 
would be practicable for him to show London a 
clean pair of heels. It is bad to become enamoured 
of a married woman, worse to avow your love, worse 
still to find that you have avowed it without being 
in love at all. But what is enough to make the 
average man despair is the discovery that he has done 


188 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


this while his whole heart has been given to another 
person who would not have thanked him for the gift 
even if he had been free to offer and she free to accept 
it. Guy differed from the average man in so far 
as that he was resolute against allowing any woman 
or women to reduce him to despair. Nevertheless, 
it was with a bent head and a bitter taste in his mouth 
that he strode eastwards, wondering, as he walked, 
whether he might not hit upontsome pretext for 
leaving England and remaining absent a long time. 
Buenos Ayres, perhaps, in furtherance of schemes 
sketched out by Mr. Hilliar ? 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE AMIABLE MARPLOT 

If the Church of Rome, to which Mr. Hilliar had 
proclaimed himself obedient, refuses the right of 
private judgment in matters of faith, she allows it 
with regard to the affairs of this world, and scarcely 
had Guy left Paul and his guest to continue their 
conversation when the latter, abruptly discarding 
theology and philosophy, proceeded to make known 
in what manner he had exercised that privilege. 

“ It has been a great pleasure to meet you, Mr 
Lequesne,” said he, “ but the present moment seems 
a good one for me to tell you that this is not our first 
meeting. I almost think I should have recognised 
you, though I see you don’t remember me.” 

Paul, after a long look at the other, shook his head. 
“ I have no recollection of your face,” he confessed. 

“ Oh, you wouldn’t be likely to have any. It was 
too long ago, and I daresay you didn’t notice me 
particularly on the occasion. But can you carry 
your memory as far back as the summer of 1882 , 
when you were staying with some friends in Kent 
and when you went over to Folkestone for a day 
to see some cousins of yours, Clements by name ? ” 

“ Perfectly well. I have often thought of that 
day since, because that was the first and only time 
189 


190 


PAUL'S PARAGON 


that I set eyes on Guy’s mother, Rosamond Clements. 
A pretty, delicate-looking girl who had just engaged 
herself, rather against her people’s wish, to the man 
whom I believe she soon afterwards married. Her 
fiance had gone over to Paris upon I forget what 
errand, and I remember that we all walked down to 
the harbour to meet him when the steamer came in.” 

Mr. Hilliar nodded. “ That’s right. I wonder 
whether you remember that he brought Miss Rosa- 
mond a big box of bonbons, which she made a point 
of distributing to you all, as you walked up the hill.” 

“ I believe I do — dimly.” 

“ The bombardment of Alexandria was over ; 
Tel-el-Kebir was coming. The French, beginning 
to realise what a mistake they had made, were furious 
with us. Jack Hilliar, who had a number of French 
acquaintances, reported that they would hardly 
speak to him. There was a good deal of talk amongst 
you about the situation.” 

“ Yes — yes; it comes back to me,” said Paul, with 
a sigh. 

It came back to him suddenly and vividly, that hot 
summer afternoon of more than a quarter of a century 
ago; the hazy blue sky, the glare of the white cliffs, 
the cheerful chatter of voices long silenced, the 
young fellow, fresh from Oxford and full of the joy 
of life, who had borne his name. How many times 
we die before we draw our last breath ! 

“Well,” Mr. Hilliar resumed, “these are trifles; 
I only mention them partly to put you in the atmo- 
sphere, as it were, partly because they have some 
independent value. There’s another little incident 


THE AMIABLE MARPLOT 


I9l 


which you may recall. The craze for tattooing, 
which afterwards became so fashionable, had been 
started by a Japanese professor of the art in Paris, 
and Jack Hilliar had been persuaded to have his 
arm adorned with an Oriental device into which his 
sweetheart’s initials were introduced. He exhibited 
it to her while you were having tea at the Clements’s 
lodgings.” 

“ He did. I remember his saying that she wouldn’t 
be able to disown him now that he bore her brand. 
But how do you know all this ? I don’t see you as 
one of the party.” 

“ I was there, all the same,” returned Mr. Hilliar, 
laughing. 

He unfastened his sleeve-link and displayed a 
muscular forearm, on the inner side of which, stretch- 
ing from wrist to elbow, was a representation in 
divers colours of a dragon. Conspicuous in one of 
the loops formed by the monster’s spiral tail stood out 
the letters R.C. 

To say that Paul experienced a painful shock is 
to give a very inadequate description of his sensations. 
On the instant he perceived all that this astounding 
revelation meant for him, and it was as if his little 
world had been brought crashing down about his 
ears. Almost simultaneously, however, the con- 
viction that the man must be an impostor came home 
to him. 

“ But — it’s impossible ! ” he exclaimed. 

“You may well think so,” assented the other, 
smiling. “ For all that, it’s a cold fact that I am 
Jack Hilliar — at your service. And when I say at 


192 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


your service, Mr. Lequesne, let me make haste to add 
that I mean what I say. I haven’t breathed a word 
to the boy, and I won’t do so without permission 
from you. I fully acknowledge that you have 
acquired rights and that I have forfeited mine.” 

The generosity of the admission was scarcely 
noticed by Paul, whose momentary dismay had been 
succeeded by an incredulity for which there was 
ample and solid ground. He said : 

“ John Hilliar died at Malaga in 1891. In the 
next room I have documentary and official proofs 
of his death. Excuse me one minute.” 

He stalked out and presently returned, carrying 
a small sheaf of papers which he handed to the pre- 
tender, who continued to smile while examining them, 
but who owned that they did, upon the face of them, 
appear tolerably conclusive. 

“ Of course these are forgeries ; still I’m bound to 
say that they’re uncommonly clever ones. How on 
earth did Vigors, who, I presume, supplied them, 
get hold of those stamped certificates, I wonder ! 
And the letter from the parson, too, with that allusion 
to ‘ Mr. Vigors’s devotion to his friend and efficiency 
under trying circumstances ’ — what a characteristic 
touch ! Well, there’s no denying that he was a 
devilish clever fellow, if one couldn’t call him an 
estimable one. By the way, what has become of 
Vigors ? But I suppose you don’t know.” 

“ As far as I am aware,” answered Paul, “ nobody 
does. Probably he is dead. He turned out to be 
a swindler, and I believe he would have been arrested 
by the police if he had set foot in this country again. 


THE AMIABLE MARPLOT 


193 


But that did not seem to be any reason for question- 
ing the authenticity of documents which were attested 
by the Spanish authorities, and in the presence of 
them I must still remain of opinion . . 

“ That Jack Hilliar is defunct ? Then, my dear 
sir, what do you make of me, pray ? I don’t lay 
special stress upon that marked arm of mine, which 
may strike you, I daresay, as reminiscent of old- 
fashioned dramas; but haven’t I put you in mind 
of things which only you and I could know ? No 
doubt, if I had wanted to personate a dead man, 
I might have had my arm tattooed in imitation of 
his; but it would be rather difficult to conjecture 
my motive. Because I am sorry to say — and, for 
that matter, you may be aware — that my past was 
hardly one which a respectable, elderly man would 
be eager to appropriate. What is more to the point, 
and what you will naturally wish to have cleared up, 
is Vigors’s motive for representing that I had died 
and been buried at Malaga. Well, I can explain 
that. The fact is that Vigors believed he had killed 
me. You would like particulars, no doubt ? ” 

“ If you please,” said Paul. 

“ I’ll be as concise as I can. You seem to have 
been informed that Vigors was a bad lot, and, not to 
mince matters, I’ll say frankly that there wasn’t a 
great deal to choose between him and me. I’m not 
here to make excuses for myself ; of course there can’t 
be much excuse for a married man who gambles 
away the whole of his small patrimony and is reduced 
to supporting a sick wife and a child by his wits. 
The necessity of supporting them by hook or by crook 
o 


194 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


doesn’t whitewash shady transactions, and some of 
my transactions were shady enough. Also they took 
me into shady company. Vigors and I were birds of 
a feather— birds of prey who hunted together, despoil- 
ing geese and pigeons of their plumage. Sometimes, 
after the manner of predatory creatures, we used to 
fall out over the booty, and we fell out pretty seriously 
one day at San Sebastian, where he had taken the 
bank at baccarat and showed an unsportsmanlike 
inclination to hang on to his winnings. It was 
an understood thing that we should go shares on 
such occasions; so you may imagine how disgusted 
I was with him for trying to make out that there had 
been no agreement that time. We walked along the 
cliffs together, arguing the point, and whether we 
ended by actually coming to blows or not I can’t 
tell you. Nor can I say for certain that he meant 
to push me over the edge into the sea. Perhaps he 
didn’t ; let us give him the benefit of the doui)t. But 
I presume he didn’t allow himself the benefit of any 
doubt as to the result ; for he was off without troubling 
to make any investigations. That was just like 
Vigors. A quick-witted fellow, but always prone to 
act on impulse. His obvious course was to run 
back, announce that I had met with a fatal accident 
and organise a search party : instead of adopting it, 
he bolted. When I crawled into San Sebastian 
late that night, I was told that he had been obliged 
to start for Madrid, that he had left a message for me 
to that effect, and that he had appeared to be very 
much vexed by my absence, for which he had pro- 
fessed to be unable to account. No wonder he took 


THE AMIABLE MARPLOT 


195 


it for granted that I had been killed ! I most un- 
doubtedly ought to have been, and to this day I have 
no notion why I wasn’t. Something must have 
broken my fall, and I suppose that, by good luck, 
the tide was on the ebb. All I remember is coming 
to myself on a patch of sand after sunset, drenched to 
the skin and rather badly bruised, but with all my 
bones intact. You may ask why I didn’t give chase. 
Well, for one reason, I couldn’t. I had been a good 
deal knocked about, and it was a case of bed for 
several days. Then again I didn’t know what had 
become of Vigors and wasn’t over and above anxious 
to renew our partnership. Finally, it occurred to me, 
while I was lying in bed and thinking things over, 
that I might do worse than take this opportunity of 
disappearing. Heartless and unprincipled ? No, not 
so very. I was almost at the end of my resources, 
my poor wife was dead, and the boy was under the 
care of those worthy Eastwoods, who couldn’t let 
him starve. Vigors was bound to account for me 
in one way or another, and I guessed that he would 
trump up some such yarn as he actually did. Look- 
ing back now, I really think that I acted wisely and 
considerately. Ten days later I was at sea, on my 
way to Buenos Ayres. A casual meeting in a billiard- 
room with a man who had just come from those 
parts, and who painted the country in glowing colours, 
decided me to give Argentina a trial.” 

“ And you have been there ever since ? ” asked 
Paul, as the narrator paused. 

“Not quite ever since. After I had been there a 
couple of years and had scraped together a little 

O 2 


196 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


money, I took a trip across to Bordeaux and Arcachon, 
meaning to look up Eastwood and perhaps take the 
boy off his hands. But poor Eastwood was dead, 
and the family had left. A former servant of theirs, 
who didn’t know who I was, was very communicative 
and gave me all the information she had, telling me, 
amongst other things, that Guy had been adopted by 
you. Can you wonder that I didn’t care to disturb 
an arrangement so infinitely more advantageous for 
him than any that I could have substituted for it ? 
I said to myself, ‘ Jack, my friend, back you go to 
Buenos Ayres until you have made your fortune 
and can hold up your head again.’ And back I 
went.” 

“ There is one thing in Mr. Vigors’s alleged conduct 
which strikes me as unaccountable,” observed Paul 
meditatively. “You say he was under the impression 
that he had killed you. But then he must have seen 
the probability of your body being found and his 
fabricated story exposed.” 

“ One would think so ; but, as I said before. Vigors 
was a man of impulse. He may have hoped that 
tides and currents and fishes would be his salvation ; 
though it’s more likely that his one idea was to get 
away as fast as express trains could take him. I 
don’t pretend to explain Vigors ; I’m only telling you 
as much as I know of the truth.” 

It all sounded extremely like the truth. It was, 
in any case, palpably, painfully true that the man 
was Guy’s father; which was the one and only thing 
that signified. His fortune was presumably made, 
his shapely grey head was up, his right to disturb an 


THE AMIABLE MARPLOT 


197 


arrangement grounded upon his supposed demise 
was incontestable. He himself, however, repeated 
that he considered that right a forfeited one. 

“ Please don’t look so distressed, Mr. Lequesne. 
I quite understand how you feel. You are fond of 
the lad ; you would hate to be deprived of him ; you 
think he belongs to you a great deal more than he 
does to me — and so, in common reason and justice, 
he does. Let me say once more that I am at your 
orders. Tell me to hold my tongue and mum shall 
be the word. You won’t, I am sure, ask me to drop 
his acquaintance. There is such a thing as natural 
affection, though I haven’t displayed any during all 
these years. But, apart from that, I must own that 
he fairly delights me. I was certain that he would 
when I heard of him out in South America and 
gathered what his aptitudes were. In fact, it was 
much more an irresistible craving to talk with him 
than a wish to get into business relations with Clelands 
and other firms that brought me to England, and he 
more than fulfils my hopes. However, if I may be 
allowed to see a little of him in my present character 
of a distant relative, I shall be satisfied.” 

“ I am obliged to you for the suggestion,” answered 
Paul a trifle drily, “ but I should not wish to deceive 
Guy upon this or any other subject; nor do I see how 
it could be practicable to deceive him for long. What 
occurs to me is that, at his age, he can no longer be 
said to be dependent upon me.” 

“ He is dependent upon you for an income, I pre- 
sume,” observed Mr. Hilliar, laughing. 

“No; I believe he is earning quite enough to keep 


198 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


him. I do make him an allowance, of course; but, 
for anything I know, the changed circumstances may 
make him wish that to be discontinued.” 

If Mr. Hilliar looked taken aback for one instant, 
the emotion was so slight and so transient that Paul, 
who was watching him like a cat, could not have 
sworn to it. 

“ I hope,” was his prompt rejoinder, “ you don’t 
suspect me of mercenary motives. Naturally, I 
should be sorry if my son’s prospects were to be in- 
jured by my reappearance, and the more so because 
I myself have done nothing at all for him ; but when 
I offered to maintain my incognito, I was thinking 
more of you than of him.” 

“ Maintaining your incognito is out of the ques- 
tion,” said Paul. “ What the consequences of dis- 
missing it are to be Guy, I think, will have to decide. 
Mercenary considerations are most unlikely to weigh 
with him. But, for the rest, although he is a full- 
grown man, who can make a home for himself when 
and where he likes, there remains a species of authority 
and responsibility, based upon sentiment, which must 
be either yours or mine. In short, a man can’t have 
two fathers.” 

“ So that he will have to choose between us, you 
mean ? ” 

“ Bluntly put, it comes to that. Many people 
might consider that he has no choice, seeing that 
you are really his father, whereas I have only stood 
in loco 'parentis ; still the case is an abnormal one, 
and I think there is perhaps something in what you 
say about your having forfeited your rights.” 


THE AMIABLE MARPLOT 


199 


“ There is so much in it, my dear sir, that I am 
prepared to make formal renouncement of them. 
But why, if I may ask, must you needs place both me 
and the boy in such a painful predicament ? Can’t 
I be accepted simply as a returned prodigal father, 
who claims nothing and asks nothing, unless it be 
a small share of the affection which he hasn’t earned ? 
Remember old Louis XVIII — ‘ Rien n'est change, il 
n^y a qu^un Fran^ais de plus.' ” 

“ He didn’t mean what he said, and if he had, 
he would have been talking flat nonsense. Facts 
are not affected, one way or the other, by a 
phrase.” 

Mr. Hilliar smiled and made a deprecating gesture. 
“ Well, what would you have me do ? I can’t help 
my existence being a fact, can I ? It’s true that 
I needn’t have divulged it to you, and I begin to be 
almost sorry that I did; but I beg to say once more 
that, as far as I am concerned, you are at liberty to 
keep it to yourself for ever.” 

The reiteration of this absurd permission drew no 
acknowledgment from Paul, who only remarked : 

“ I shall not bring any sort of pressure to bear 
upon Guy, and of course I shall not repeat everything 
that you have told me about your past life. I shall 
lay the bare facts before him and leave him free to 
shape his future as he may think best.” 

“ Then,” answered Mr. Hilliar, laughing good- 
humouredly, “ I believe I can guess what his choice 
will be, and I assure you I shall not grumble at it. 
Now I had better take myself off, so that you and he 
may have the field clear. I am staying at the 


200 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


Carlton Hotel, where a note or a message will find me 
when I am wanted.” 

After he had gone, Paul experienced some twinges 
of compunction. He certainly had not been over 
cordial to a man whom, in spite of everything, he 
could not help rather liking, nor, perhaps, was it 
quite fair to assume that Mr. Hilliar’s self-abnegation 
implied a lively sense of possible benefits to come. 
On the other hand, who could be expected to speak 
smooth things to so unforeseen and so disastrously 
inopportune a marplot ? 


CHAPTER XVII 


A LOOPHOLE 

“ It’s queer to find that one has an authentic father,” 
remarked Guy musingly; “but really it isn’t at all 
unpleasant. I’m sorry he should have thought that 
I might wish to disown him, poor old chap ! On 
the contrary, I don’t know that I have ever taken a 
greater liking to anybody in such a short space of 
time.” 

There is always, of course, some difficulty in fore- 
telling how people will receive revolutionary tidings ; 
but Paul had hardly been prepared for so calm and — 
to his sense — so inept a comment as this upon the 
long story which he had striven to narrate with 
strict accuracy and impartiality. 

“ The question of your wishing to disown your 
father didn’t arise,” he said ; “ Mr. Hilliar’s suggestion 
was that you should be kept in ignorance of the fact 
that he is your father. It was well meant, no doubt, 
and though it couldn’t possibly be entertained, I 
don’t, under all circumstances, so very much wonder 
that he should have made it.” 

“ Because of his having deserted me in my child- 
hood ? Yes; but I can’t, after all, be said to have 
suffered, and one sees his idea. I rather admire him 
201 


202 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


for preferring to remain dead until he could feel 
that he might creditably come to life again.” 

Paul, unable to rise to the level of admiring Mr. 
Hillair, made no rejoinder, and presently Guy resumed : 

“ There’s no reason why everybody shouldn’t be 
told, I suppose ? ” 

“ None at all. Indeed, it’s unavoidable that the 
truth should be told. The point is — how will your 
future be affected by this ? ” 

“ Oh, not in any disagreeable way, I hope. He 
and I are interested in much the same sort of things. 
He’ll wish me to stick to my trade, I expect.” 

“ Perhaps. Only he may wish, naturally enough, 
to have you near him. And, from what he said, I 
gathered that he means to return to Argentina.” 

To Paul’s anxious eyes the smile with which Guy 
greeted this feeler looked cruelly significant. The 
boy had always been like that — always attracted 
and stimulated by fresh departures, always ready 
to accept change, never reluctant to break with a 
played-out past. He had not seemed to mind 
leaving either Eton or Oxford, though he had had 
so many friends and such happy days in both places. 
Possibly it was essential to his vitality and efficiency 
that he should be a little hard of heart. 

The appreciation was scarcely fair. Paul did not 
know what good cause the young man had for longing 
to be out of England ; much less did he suspect that 
his own unnecessarily hard and dry recital had 
quenched confidential inclinations. Guy, thoroughly 
out of conceit with himself, had come home in a 
frame of mind to welcome sympathy and counsel. 


A LOOPHOLE 


203 


For a very little he would have told his old man all 
about his newly discovered love for Audrey, all 
about his foolish affair with Lady Freda. But his 
tentative preamble had been checked by a statement 
so delivered as to make him doubt whether he had 
not lost something of his old man’s affection. He 
had fancied of late — not altogether without reason — 
that Paul ^ had changed to him, and the intimation 
that the future was at his own disposal had neither 
escaped him nor failed to cause him a pang which he 
would not for the world have betrayed. Just because 
he was fonder of Paul than of any other human being 
(with the possible exception of Audrey Baldwin) he 
could not let himself assume an injured air, and that 
was partly why he replied, in a tone of cheerful 
acquiescence : 

“ Well, Argentina would do me all right. As it 
happens, I might easily go out there in the interests 
of the firm.” 

“ Yes ? ” said Paul interrogatively. And then : 
“ But you won’t be starting tomorrow or next day, 
I presume.” 

“ Goodness, no ! Am I not to have my summer 
and autumn holiday at Stone Hall ? ” 

“ I hope you are. I shall be off there myself to- 
morrow, I think, and perhaps you will join me when 
you can.” 

After all, he could not bring himself to say what 
he had made up his mind to say. Granted that 
the choice between him and Mr. Hilliar would have 
to be taken, it did not follow that Guy ought to be 
confronted there and then with alternatives and 


204 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


required to leap before he had had time to look. 
Besides, Guy understood. The trivial circumstance 
that he had spoken of “ Stone Hall,” instead of 
“ home ” was evidence enough to Paul’s acute 
sensibility of his having understood. As for him- 
self, he was probably best out of the way. Giving 
frank utterance to this impression, he was not con- 
tradicted; nor was he invited — as surely he might 
have been ! — ^to give some sort of lead to one whose 
decision could not be but still unformed. 

He was not invited to give a lead because Guy knew 
very well that he would refuse to do any such thing. 
That may have been a sufficient reason for absten- 
tion; but there was no obvious reason for seeking 
counsel in a far less trustworthy quarter — ^unless 
indeed that method of eliminating other themes of 
conversation in the same quarter might be accounted 
as such. It was on the next afternoon that Lady 
Freda Barran — a little cross at first, owing to her 
ignored summons, but easily placated, as usual — was 
informed of what had befallen her young friend, 
and her advice, if somewhat cynical, was much to 
the point. 

“ Let them fight over you, like Solomon’s two 
ladies over the baby. They’ll end by compromising, 
as the others didn’t; you’ll be painlessly chopped 
in half, and you’ll score both ways. What sort of a 
person is he, this long-lost parent of yours ? ” 

“ Oh, he’s splendid ! I’ve been spending the 
whole day with him, and if we had spent the last 
twenty years together we couldn’t have got on 
better. We really did spend fractions of the first 


A LOOPHOLE 


205 


nine years of my life together. I recognised him 
perfectly as soon as he began to remind me of those 
old days and of his having taught me to swim and a 
heap of other things. If he hadn’t grown a beard 
and if his hair hadn’t turned white, he would look 
just the same now as he did then.” 

“ Rich ? ” 

“ I don’t know; but I fancy he must be fairly well 
off.” 

“ And not exacting, you say ? ” 

“ Anything but ! It isn’t he who wants to put 
me in a fix. In fact, he doesn’t see why there should 
be one.” 

“ Oh, well, then, that simplifies matters. You 
have only to say that common decency and gratitude 
and all that forbid you to throw over Mr. Lequesne.” 

“ So my father thinks ; but I’m not sure that I 
want what you and he think I ought to want. Or 
rather, I’m quite sure I don’t. That ‘ scoring both 
ways,’ as you put it, is just what I don’t fancy.” 

“ You’re a dear,” said Lady Freda, “ but you’re 
an awful donkey. What is this fidgety old Lequesne 
driving at, anyhow ? ” 

“ I wish I knew ! Sometimes I wonder whether 
he hasn’t had about enough of me. When one comes 
to think of it, I must have been a good deal of a 
disappointment to him.” 

“ Rubbish ! You couldn’t disappoint anybody if 
you tried.” 

“ I’m afraid I’ve managed it in his case. He was 
tremendously proud of me and my small triumphs 
when I was a boy; most likely he expected them to 


206 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


be followed by successes in literature or politics. 
Commerce says nothing to him. If he were to speak 
his whole mind, he would have to own that he looks 
upon trade as a calling for the vulgar.” 

Lady Freda yawned. Other people’s affairs seldom 
held her attention for long, nor did it seem to her to 
matter in the least what Mr. Lequesne’s tastes might 
be, provided he made the right kind of will — which 
thing he could in all probability be relied upon to do. 
She shifted the talk to a subject which never bored 
her, though it was beginning, unfortunately, to bore 
her hearer. Casually it came out that she would 
soon be turning her back upon London. Goodwood 
and Cowes claimed her; after which there would be 
Scotland, she supposed. 

“ It’s disgusting to think of what an age it may 
be before we meet again ! Still one never knows ; 
opportunities may crop up, and I daresay I could 
get you some shooting invitations later. Promise 
to accept them if I do ! ” 

He gave provisional pledges with alacrity. At the 
back of his mind he knew that he was not going to 
be tempted to Scotland by any bait, whether sport- 
ing or amatory, but it seemed allowable to say that 
he would respond to signals unless unavoidably 
hindered. Hindrances would not be far to seek. 

How glad he was to emerge from the siren’s dwell- 
ing into the fresh air ! How strange it seemed to 
him that he should ever have pictured Lady Freda 
as a siren at all ! Nevertheless, he was aware that 
release could only be temporary, that he was com- 
mitted for good, if not for positive ill, that he was 


A LOOPHOLE 


207 


bound in honour, or dishonour, by his own words. 
Possibly that was a rather exaggerated view to take ; 
possibly he would not have taken it if he had been 
a little older and a little more conversant with the 
ways of the world. But, being young, chivalrous 
and in some directions credulous, he saw himself 
caught in a net from which there was no escape, save 
the imperfect one of not thinking about it. 

That sedative he was enabled to employ for all it 
was worth, and no doubt it was worth a good deal 
to him. He was given plenty to think about during 
the weeks that followed — weeks given up in a great 
measure to the furtherance of an undertaking which 
his energetic father had crossed the Atlantic to push. 
The Chaco Development Company already existed, 
though scarcely as yet in more than embryonic shape, 
owing to the apathy with which its proposed opera- 
tions were regarded in Buenos Ayres. The vast 
forests of Northern Argentina, so rich in valuable 
timber, so difficult of access, remained unexploited 
and almost unexplored, Mr. Hilliar said, by a com- 
munity amply engaged in the facile accumulation 
of pastoral wealth. British enterprise and British 
capital were needed; only they must be forthcoming 
without too long delay, lest the Germans or the 
Americans should step in and a magnificent opening 
be for ever closed. With his prospectuses, his maps, 
his statistics, his personal knowledge of the district 
in question, he was persuasive and convincing It 
was not Guy alone who found him so, nor was his 
reception, either in business or in social circles, a 
cold one. That a man’s father should drop abruptly 


208 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


from the clouds, after having been reputed dead and 
buried for a matter of seventeen years, might seem 
upon the face of it to be an incident demanding 
some explanation ; but in truth Guy’s friends demanded 
remarkably little. It was, after all, his affair, not 
theirs, and since he was apparently pleased, they had 
no reason to be otherwise. With frank, genial 
Mr. Hilliar they could hardly help being pleased. 
At the same time, solid, stolid capitalists could not 
be expected to take him on trust merely because 
he had nice manners and because his son was a 
youngster of proved ability. He himself was conscious 
of this. 

“ I must meet your senior partner,” he said. 
“ For one thing his support will be of great use to 
us, and, for another, I confess I should like to see 
Cleland and Son getting the lion’s share of the huge 
profits which we shall be making in a year or two.” 

So there was a visit to Liverpool and there were 
several long colloquies with Mr. Cleland which moved 
that ordinarily cautious old gentleman to something 
bordering upon enthusiasm. Strange to say, it was 
Guy who on this occasion deprecated precipitancy 
and pointed out that it would not do for the firm, 
as such, to finance a company unconnected with 
shipping. Prone to enthusiasm himself, he recognised 
that his father was equally so, and just because his 
own uniform success thus far in what had looked like 
bold ventures had won him the well-nigh blind confi- 
dence of the senior partner he dreaded to take undue 
advantage thereof. It might be, probably it was, 
true that those remote forests contained any amount 


A LOOPHOLE 


209 


of quebracho timber which was worth any amount 
of money; but whether the difficulty and expense 
of bringing it to market might not prove prohibitory 
remained to be seen. His two elders were disposed 
to smile at him. One of them had worked out a 
rough estimate of the cost of constructing a light 
railway ; the other, while agreeing that the firm must 
not — for the present, at any rate — “ take a hand,” 
went so far as to estimate that, upon the receipt of 
fuller information, he and others might raise the bulk 
of the requisite capital amongst them. That was 
all that Mr. Hilliar wanted. Finally, it was decided 
that a competent person (the competent person was 
easily named) should be sent out to survey and report 
upon the district — which was all that Guy wanted. 

“ We’ll make the trip together,” his father said 
to him afterwards. “ That is. I’ll go a part of the 
way with you; for I’m afraid my days of camping 
out and roughing it are over. Well, now that you 
have got leave of absence from your firm, the next 
thing will be to get leave from Mr. Lequesne.” 

He made it a point that that permission should be 
requested. He said he felt uncomfortably guilty as 
it was, and he would never forgive himself if an 
estrangement for which there was no real justification 
were to come about through any action of his. “ It 
isn’t my fault that I happen to be your father; but 
it’s altogether my fault that he has thought of you 
and treated you as a son. So we must impress it 
upon him that you and he stand precisely where 
you did.” 

“ But do we ? ” Guy objected. “ Isn’t it rather 

p 


210 PAUL’S PARAGON 

for him than for me to say whether we do or 
not ? ” 

Mr. Hilliar laughed. “ Why, of course it is. Hence 
the need for smoothing down ruffled feathers. You’re 
proud, you’re independent, you would like to take 
up the position of saying that you ask no favours. 
All very fine, but please to consider poor me. Don’t 
you understand that I can’t let you quarrel with Mr. 
Lequesne and your bread and butter ? No, not even 
amicably.” 

Father and son were made welcome at Stone Hall 
in September, and certainly it did not seem as if 
their host had the least desire to be quarrelsome. 
That he was not quite himself Guy very soon detected ; 
but his other guest, being less familiar with him, saw 
only in his marked friendliness a sensible and kindly 
acceptance of the situation. There was no trouble 
about the proposed journey. Paul evaded the question 
of his approval being needed, remarked that it ought 
to be an interesting excursion and diverged to the 
subject of sport in the interior of Argentina, as to 
which Mr. Hilliar was qualified to give full informa- 
tion. Information concerning Mr. Hilliar’s past 
came out incidentally then and on other occasions. 
It appeared to have been a chequered, perhaps not 
at all times a strictly reputable one. He had the 
air of concealing nothing, yet he did not reveal much. 
Paul, watching the man, studying him, trying to 
place him, could arrive at no more positive result 
than a deepening impression that he was somehow 
unsafe. Well, he was pretty certain to be, or have 
been, that. What else he was, in addition to being 


A LOOPHOLE 


211 


a good man on a horse, a very fair shot and an agree- 
able, well-read companion, remained dubious. 

He was, at any rate, sharp enough to guess that 
Paul wanted to know. Walking back from shooting, 
one day, when Guy had marched on ahead and was 
out of earshot, he said all of a sudden : 

“ Confess now, Mr. Lequesne : you set me down 
as an adventurer, don’t you ? ” 

“ By your own account, you have led an adven- 
turous life,” answered Paul, a little taken aback. 

“ And always shall, I expect, in spite of my grey 
hair. You’re quite right; I can’t resist adventure; 
c^est plus fort que moi. Something in the blood, I 
suppose. Look at that boy of mine ! — isn’t he just 
the same ? The same, with a difference which 1 
needn’t specify, because you’re so fully alive to it. 
Say that he’s adventurous and that I’m an adven- 
turer. As for this El Chaco Company, I honestly 
believe that there are millions in it ; still, like every- 
thing else of the sort, it’s a bit of a gamble. Come 
what may, I don’t want Guy to be a loser by it.” 

“ I presume he needn’t be a shareholder,” said 
Paul. 

“ No ; but there are other aspects of the case. 
You told me in London that he would have to choose 
between us. I hope and think that you have changed 
your mind about that ; yet I should like to be assured 
that his having chosen in some sort to throw in his 
lot with mine won’t mar his prospects with you. 
See how frank I am ! ” 

He brought a pair of laughing blue eyes to bear 
upon his neighbour. Really not bad sort of eyes — 


212 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


clear, bold and bright. Nevertheless, Paul, while 
he returned their gaze, repeated inwardly, “ Unsafe ! 
— unsafe ! ” 

Aloud he said : 

“ You suggest a rather one-sided bargain, Mr. 
Hilliar.” 

“ Amend it, then. Keep the boy ; he’s yours more 
than mine; I’ve acknowledged that all along. Let 
the bargain be that he shall stay in England, instead 
of going out to Argentina with me, and that you shall 
make no alteration in what you had intended doing 
for him before I rose so disturbingly from the dead.” 

Was he sincere ? He had all the appearance of 
being so ; yet he must have known that such an offer 
could not be accepted. Perhaps he wanted, as Lady 
Freda would have said, to “ score both ways,” which 
is more than any man ought to want. 

“ I am afraid,” answered Paul, smiling, “ that I 
am scarcely in a position to conclude bargains. Guy, 
who is a free agent, has decided to go to Argentina. 
I raise no objection, nor, to return frankness for 
frankness, do I feel called upon to bind myself by any 
promise. We must allow the future to develope as 
it may. For the present, we are all friends, and 
nobody, I think, is aggrieved. At all events, I don’t 
consider that I have any grievance.” 

He did not consider that he had any grievance 
of a nature to be imparted to or understood by Mr. 
Hilliar. That Guy’s confidence and communica- 
tiveness should have become things of the past was, 
after all, only one of those little tragedies which are 
part and parcel of the normal course of human life. 


A LOOPHOLE 


213 


Fathers, mothers, guardians must recognise, if they 
be endued with common sense, that a time comes for 
the putting away of childish things. However, a 
consoling surprise was in store for the philosopher. 

“ Old man,” said Guy, one evening when they were 
by themselves for a few minutes, “ I want to tell 
you something. You’re not to think that I don’t 
mind leaving you and leaving England. I do mind ; 
only — I should mind staying here ever so much more. 
To put things shortly, I couldn’t face Audrey’s wed- 
ding day. It isn’t catastrophic; I shall get over it 
right enough in time. Only I thought I should like 
you to know.” 

Paul’s hand was on his shoulder in a moment, 
and Paul’s voice — the old voice which had not been 
heard for such a long time — was saying, “ My dear 
boy ! — is it so bad as that ? ” 

“ It’s rather bad,” Guy owned. “ Sometimes it 
hurts like the very devil. It can’t be helped, though, 
and there’s no use crying about it. I wanted you 
to know, that was all.” 

Paul was both glad and sorry. He was also sur- 
prised; for he had sometimes doubted whether it 
was in Guy’s nature to care deeply for anybody. 

“ Oh, you stupid fellow ! ” he exclaimed; “ why 
do you make these discoveries when it is too late ? 
But perhaps — who knows ? — perhaps it isn’t too 
late. I suppose I oughtn’t to suggest such a thing 
as her playing young Cleland false; yet if she has 
made a mistake — which doesn’t seem impossible — 
might there not still be some hope ? ” 

“ Oh, not an earthly ! ” broke in Guy, laughing. 


214 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ What she sees in Wattie I can’t imagine; but I’m 
as sure of her loving him as I am that she wouldn’t 
have got beyond liking me if he had never been born. 
No; exile is the only physic for my complaint. 
Besides, there are other reasons.” 

“ Other reasons for your leaving the country ? ” 

“ Yes ; but I’d rather not put a name to them, if 
you’ll let me off, old man. I daresay you can guess 
what they are, and if you can’t, never mind ! Least 
said soonest mended. I had to tell you about Audrey, 
because — well, you know why. But now that you 
hold the key, you’ll be merciful and leave the door 
shut, won’t you ? We can find some better fun 
for our last days together than opening cupboards 
and examining skeletons.” 

To such an appeal Paul was the last man in the 
world to turn a deaf ear. He nodded, smiled and said 
none of the things that he was longing to say. Curt 
and partial though Guy’s confession had been, its 
spontaneity rejoiced his heart and likewise softened 
it a little towards Mr. Hilliar, who, he felt tolerably 
sure, did not know as much as he did. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


IMAGINATION AND ENERGY 

We say that the world is small, just as human 
beings in all ages have been wont to assert tritely 
that life is short; but the truth of the latter state- 
ment, though so patent, is seldom realised by the 
young, while that of the former has only been brought 
home to us in quite recent times. The world today 
is almost inconveniently small; yet even now upon 
the surface of the broad ocean, with England a 
thousand miles astern, some illusory sense of rupture, 
remoteness and freedom is not attainable by imagina- 
tive voyagers. Guy Hilliar, extended upon a deck- 
chair and arrayed in the white flannels appropriate 
to the temperature and latitude, was so much 
under the impression of having definitely slipped 
his moorings that he could afford to indulge in a 
sigh or two. Not, of course, that he regretted what 
he had done. That it had been the best possible 
thing to do was proved by an indignant and reproach- 
ful missive from Lady Freda, which had reached him 
on the eve of embarkation, if by nothing else. Only 
Lady Freda did not know, nor did Paul Lequesne, 
nor did anybody, save Guy himself, how definite 
this departure of his was likely to be. He had thought 
it all out and had made up his mind that England 
215 


216 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


should not see him again for some years to come, 
if he could help it. Ostensibly he had been des- 
patched by his firm upon an informal mission which 
would probably be discharged before the end of the 
year; secretly he had resolved to sever connection 
with his firm, offer his services to the Chaco Develop- 
ment Company and start life afresh in the Southern 
Hemisphere. Perhaps this might be rather hard 
upon Paul, perhaps not; he was uncertain. Upon 
that point he had intermittent qualms and mis- 
givings, but upon no other. Lady Freda— well. 
Lady Freda would miss him a little, or persuade 
herself that she did. As for Audrey, who might be 
good enough to miss him more than a little, such 
light affliction must have been hers in any case, 
since it would have been altogether too heavy a tax 
upon his fortitude to maintain intimate relations 
with Mrs. Walter Cleland. So if he sighed while he 
reclined thus, watching the white wake of the ship 
upon the indigo of a slowly heaving sea, it was only 
because one does not bid farewell to the past without 
a touch of sadness. 

Presently his father, who had just finished a game 
of deck quoits, strolled up and dropped into a chair 
beside him. Mr. Hilliar, clad in spotless white duck, 
looked as smart, alert and cheery as he always did. 

“ Find this board-ship life rather tedious ? ” he 
asked. 

“ Not particularly,” answered Guy; “ it’s a repose- 
ful sort of interlude.” 

“ Ah, you’re young enough to bear with interludes ! 
Personally, I’m not bored, because I never allow 


IMAGINATION AND ENERGY 217 


myself to be that; but I do resent having to kill 
time. It’s no fair duel, considering that time is bound 
to retort by killing us — and some of us pretty soon 
too ! Once at Buenos Ayres, though, we’ll get to 
work, and I believe we’re fairly quick workers, you 
and I. The thing will be to draw up your report 
and despatch it with as little delay as possible.” 

He made no secret of his impatience to be done 
with preliminaries which he deemed superfluous. 
As a concession to Mr. Cleland, he had agreed that 
Guy should inspect the Company’s property; but 
what practical result would such a cursory inspec- 
tion have, beyond establishing the fact that the 
Company owned so many square miles of virgin 
forest ? However, as he remarked, with shrugged 
shoulders, one must make concessions if one wants 
to receive them. He would willingly have made 
concessions to Paul ; he was insistent that Guy 
should neglect none. 

“ Be sure you write to Mr. Lequesne from Madeira,” 
said he. “ Let him have no excuse for fancying 
that it’s out of sight out of mind with you. You 
think me a mercenary old beggar, I know, but it’s 
my clear and sheer duty to be mercenary in this 
instance. I didn’t seek you out in order to deprive 
you of your inheritance.” 

His disinterested (it could not but be disin- 
terested) eagerness to safeguard his son’s future 
was rather touching, however little Guy might be 
in sympathy with it. That he would be found in 
sympathy with his son’s private intentions was evi- 
dently not to be expected ; so he was kept in ignorance 


218 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


of them. For the rest, there was sympathy enough 
and to spare between two men who had numerous 
points of resemblance. They had become attached 
to one another, they had quickly understood one 
another — ^the younger perhaps perceiving, or begin- 
ning to guess, better than the elder where they were 
sooner or later bound to part company. Casual 
remarks, allusions, reminiscences exhibited Mr. Hilliar 
as being what he had so candidly confessed to Paul 
that he was. Adventurers are often engaging, 
lovable mortals ; the misfortune is that their standard 
of honourable conduct is apt to be elastic, while 
neither they nor their statements can be implicitly 
depended upon. Germs of doubt which had found 
their way into Guy’s mind respecting the Chaco 
Company and other matters were stimulated to 
active growth at Madeira, where a relay of passengers 
for South America came on board. Shortly after 
the voyage had been resumed, two of these — ^young 
Anglo-Argentine men of business, it seemed — entered 
the smoking-room, where Guy was reading a news- 
paper, and one of them said, with a laugh : 

“ Whom do you think I stumbled upon just now ? 
Old Hilliar, if you please, in his best form. Very 
full of himself and some wild-cat scheme that he has 
been over to England to float.” 

“ Always thought he couldn’t show his face in 
England,” remarked the other. 

“ Oh, I don’t know about that ; one needn’t believe 
all one hears. I like the old chap myself ; though I 
wouldn’t trust him with a dollar of my money, mind 
you. He isn’t to be trusted with a dollar of his 


IMAGINATION AND ENERGY 219 


own, when he has one. Light come, light go ! I’ve 
seen him rich and I’ve seen him stone broke, and 
upon my word, I believe he’d as soon be the one as 
the other.” 

“ Well, he’s stone broke now, isn’t he ? ” 

“ He doesn’t look like it. Going to make things 
hum somewhere in the backwoods, so he says, and he 
tells me he’s taking his son out with him to start 
the show.” 

“His son ? I didn’t know he had one.” 

“Nor I; but old Hilliar is a man of surprises. 
It’s a wise son who knows his own father, and I should 
think there might be some little surprise in store for 
this one, unless ” 

Here Guy, who had already cleared his voice once 
or twice without avail, lowered his paper and fixed 
a steady gaze upon the speaker, whose cheeks were 
gradually suffused with a rich crimson flush. After 
that, the only thing to be done, in common humanity, 
was to get up and walk out, leaving the unhappy 
man to meditate at his leisure upon the idiocy of 
making such observations in public places. 

Yet it may well be that if Mr. Hilliar himself had 
overheard what had been said about him, he would 
not have been greatly disconcerted ; for he was 
neither thin-skinned nor conscious of guile in his 
recent dealings. He had never told his son that 
he was a wealthy man : as a matter of fact, he was 
seldom acquainted with the state of his resources, 
save when — as had sometimes occurred — he found 
himself without resources at all. He had made 
and lost moderate fortunes again and again; his 


220 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


credit at Buenos Ayres did not stand high in any 
sense; but through good report and evil report he 
had kept hosts of friends, and this young man — 
Jackson by name — was one of them. Poor Jackson, 
on being formally introduced to Guy at a later hour, 
was with difficulty restrained from apologising there 
and then — did, indeed, subsequently apologise, much 
to his hearer’s amusement. 

“ I can’t tell you how sorry I am 1 I ought to be 
kicked; I’ve been kicking myself, figuratively speak- 
ing, ever since. I do hope you won’t think any more 
about what I said. Of course in a young country 
like Argentina everybody has to be more or less of 
a speculator, and your father hasn’t always been 
as lucky in his ventures as some of us, that’s all. 
I’ve no doubt this new company of his — I forget what 
he called it — ^is perfectly sound.” 

The insincerity of the assertion and the sincerity 
of the penitence expressed were so self-evident that 
Guy could not help laughing. He soon grew friendly 
with Mr. Jackson and his congeners, of whom there 
were several on board ; he was not offended by stric- 
tures which had not been meant for his ears and 
which, indeed, could not properly be called offensive. 
Many a substantial and preposterous undertaking 
has been pronounced a wild-cat scheme in its incep- 
tion. Nevertheless, it stood out plainly that optimistic 
asseverations would require verifying. 

Mr. Hilliar’s good faith, happily, did not need 
that. He blew the trumpet of the Chaco Develop- 
ment Company with no uncertain sound; he dis- 
coursed to all and sundry upon the dazzling future. 


IMAGINATION AND ENERGY 221 


the boundless capabilities of the region which he 
extolled ; nobody, listening to him, could doubt 
that he believed every word of what he professed to 
believe, and he was such a pleasant, picturesque 
talker that he never lacked listeners. Jackson 
and the other Buenos Ayres merchants knew singularly 
little about the extensive forest lands of Northern 
Argentina. They did, however, know that there 
was money in quebracho timber, the demand for 
which was ever on the increase. The trouble, they 
told Guy, was that the logs had to be conveyed for 
long distances over a difficult, swampy country, 
that the climate was said to be very unfavourable 
to bullocks, and that fodder was scarce. Such 
obstacles might, no doubt, be surmounted, but they 
had hitherto been found deterrent by those who 
desired quick returns. Anyhow, there was nothing 
like making inquiries and investigations on the spot. 
Guy was strongly advised to do so, and gathered 
that these good fellows wished to dissuade him from 
taking any irrevocable action before doing so. They 
were very good fellows, addicted to sport, cricketers, 
polo-players, readily drawn towards one whose 
tastes corresponded to their own. Guy might have 
amused himself extremely well at Buenos Ayres, 
if he had been free to accept the hospitality which 
was pressed upon him; but Mr. Hilliar laid great 
stress upon the value of time, and for his own part, 
he was impatient to get to grips with facts. That 
he had thus far been nourished with large doses of 
fiction was more and more apparent to him. 

The handsome, bustling, essentially modern capital 


222 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


of Argentina is not less lamentably devoid of dis- 
tinction than other modern cities. Driving through 
its crowded streets with his son, after the completion 
of the voyage, Mr. Hilliar made the excuses for it 
which we all feel constrained to make for our respec- 
tive places of residence when these do not chance 
to be rendered impressive to a stranger by nature 
or art. 

“ Ville quelconque, as Pierre Loti might say. Yes ; 
but what else could it be, under the conditions ? 
Make due allowance for the conditions and you’ll 
have to admit that the civic authorities deserve 
some praise. The public buildings and the public 
gardens are well enough. As for private houses, 
I hope to introduce you into some that wouldn’t 
disgrace London or Paris. I disposed of my own 
shanty before I sailed for Europe ; that’s why we’re 
going to put up at the Grand Hotel. But they 
won’t do us badly there, you’ll find.” 

This airy, casual intimation that he had no home 
was of a piece with Mr. Hilliar’s curiously happy- 
go-lucky attitude respecting all matters of business. 
It did not take Guy many days to discover that if his 
father was gifted with imagination, energy and zeal, 
such humble trivialities as sums in arithmetic were 
beyond or beneath him. Now, for the successful 
conduct of a commercial enterprise imagination 
and energy are qualities by no means to be despised ; 
they stand for the poetry of the thing and may even 
constitute its vital principle. Only the indispensable 
supplement of prose must be contributed by some- 
body, and Guy — ^himself no great lover of prosaic 


IMAGINATION AND ENERGY 228 


details — ^recognised that this would have to be his 
job. There was no one else to assume it. Certainly 
not the sallow, languid, cigarette-smoking youth 
who appeared to represent the entire executive 
staff of the Chaco Development Company, and who 
occupied a dingy little office in a back street; cer- 
tainly not the Directors, with whom he dined by 
turns, and who, one and all, evinced a polite disin- 
clination to answer direct queries. Civil-spoken, 
well-to-do persons, interested in their own affairs, 
not much interested, Guy suspected, in an under- 
taking which had the support of their names, whatever 
that might be worth. 

“ They’ll be glad enough to pick up our shares 
by-and-by,” Mr. Hilliar predicted; “for the time 
being, they hold a qualifying number and no more. 
That’s the worst of these people. Until they’re 
sure that Europe is going to take a hand they won’t 
move. Then they come tumbling over one another 
to pay ten times the price they need have paid. 
Well, the moral is that the sooner Europe gets your 
report the better.” 

He seemed to take it for granted that the report 
would be favourable; he hinted that a very rapid 
and superficial survey of the Company’s territory 
would suffice ; he did not disguise his anxiety to obtain 
capital. “ Without capital, you see, we’re at a stand- 
still,” said he, in his ingenuous way. 

The first part of Guy’s journey towards the Chaco 
region was accomplished in comfort, not to say 
luxury, for the Argentine railways have no need 
to fear comparison with any in the world; but his 


224 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


father, who bore him company as far as Santa F6, 
gave him warning that he had no pleasure trip in 
prospect. The summer season having set in, the 
weather was already hot ; but in the northern swamps 
and forests for which the traveller was bound it was 
going to be very much hotter. Also on the road 
thither there would be mosquitos, scanty food, rough 
accommodation, sometimes no accommodation, and 
at the end of all a property still wholly undeveloped. 

“ Of course, however, that is just our point. We 
shouldn’t have got the land for a song if it hadn’t 
been undeveloped, and the point of your report, 
as soon as you have satisfied yourself that the timber 
is there all right, should be the comparative ease 
with which it may be developed. Sure and quick 
access to the Parana river; that’s what we want, 
and that’s what a little judicious expenditure will 
give us. But you’ll see for yourself. Don’t be 
discouraged at finding the country a wilderness. 
Naturally it must be a wilderness until it is opened 
up.” 

It was to a somewhat absent-minded hearer that 
Mr. Hilliar held forth while the train rumbled across 
vast plains, where interminable pastures, varied by 
crops of maize and alfafa, stretched themselves out 
to meet the sky-line. Discouraged Guy was not, 
and did not mean to be ; but he was a little distrustful, 
a little doubtful whether it would be in his power 
to draw up the report demanded of him. Suppose 
he should be compelled to pronounce the Chaco Com- 
pany too speculative to be touched ? Nothing for 
it, in such a case, but to return to England with 


IMAGINATION AND ENERGY 225 


dropped ears and tail. Return to England being, 
in any case, an essential part of his father’s programme, 
his own private programme could not for the present 
be so much as hinted at, and this also helped to 
render him pensive. 

“ Get there as quickly as you can, and get back 
as quickly as you can,” was the parting injunction 
addressed to him. “ I’ll book our passages the 
moment I hear from you that you’re on the way 
down.” 


Q 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE DARK HORIZON 

The faculty of believing what we wish to believe 
is so common, so well-nigh universal, that few of us 
indeed can pride ourselves upon being in a position 
to deride it. It is a faculty which, under the designa- 
tion of simple faith, takes rank as a high virtue, and 
which, on any estimate, must surely be accounted 
beneficent, seeing what happiness and consolation it 
has brought to millions of mortals. As a set-off, to 
be sure, that same faculty has been known to lead 
occasional luckless persons straight to Portland 
breakwater or to the stern, wind-swept heights of 
chilly Princetown — so liable to abuse and corruption 
are all human endowments ! It may be that Mr. 
Hilliar was a potential saint gone wrong; it is un- 
fortunately certain that he was addicted to assertions 
as positive as they were inaccurate; yet it remains 
open to the charitable to assume that he must have 
been his own dupe to the extent of fancying that the 
Chaco Development Company held profitable assets. 
Else, why should he have sent forth his son to obtain 
ocular proof that it held next to none ? 

Guy, it is true, arrived at an adverse conclusion 
rather more speedily than he might have done, had 
he not been predisposed towards it by a tedious 
226 


THE DARK HORIZON 


227 


journey in sweltering tropical heat and by depressing 
items of information gleaned on the way; yet the 
unquestionable facts which confronted him at his 
destination sufficed to warrant him in saying to 
himself, as he did, that he was engaged on a fool’s 
errand. Timber there was in abundance, and the 
Company’s property was a fairly extensive one, 
although a considerable portion of it seemed to be of 
little value; but other companies, in full working 
order, were established round about, and before so 
much as beginning to compete with them a very heavy 
outlay must clearly be envisaged. They had con- 
structed light railways, those other companies ; they 
had erected buildings for extracting on the spot the 
tannin which constitutes the chief value of the que- 
bracho tree; in short, they held the field, and, from 
all that Guy could gather, they had by no means 
struck an El Dorado. They were doing, so he was 
told by local agents and managers who were friendly 
enough, as well as they had any right to expect, having 
regard to their remoteness from markets; but they 
did not think that very large profits were going to be 
derived from the industry. Candidly interrogated as 
to the prospects of the Chaco Development Company, 
they laughed and shook their heads. It was on the 
cards, one of them opined, that somebody might 
realise a fortune by that enterprise; but not the 
shareholders. Oh, dear, no ! not the shareholders. 
Everything tended to confirm that forecast. Guy, 
needless to say, made careful examination and judged 
for himself; but only one judgment was possible. 
The thing was not, perhaps, a downright fraud — he 


228 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


hoped and thought that it was not — but to represent 
it as likely within any reasonable period to become 
a paying concern would be almost equivalent to fraud. 

So that had to be the gist of the communication 
which he despatched in due course to his father. He 
added that he proposed to follow closely upon its 
heels, since there was nothing more for him to do 
where he was, nor anything further to be ascertained. 

A slight attack of fever, contracted amongst the 
marshes which formed no small part of the Company’s 
domain, delayed, but did not seriously inconvenience, 
him. He had provided himself with a stock of 
quinine, and Nature had provided him with a con- 
stitution proof against all ordinary ailments. Mental 
disturbance was less easily cured — could not, in fact, 
be cured at all, and had to be endured with such 
fortitude as a man who hated nothing so much as 
owning himself beaten could muster. Beaten, how- 
ever, he was. He had, as Cleland and Son knew well, 
an unerring flair in such matters, and he was con- 
vinced that the Chaco Development Company would 
never be any good. This in itself was mortifying 
enough; but far worse was the necessary relinquish- 
ment of his design, the necessary reversion to England, 
home and duty. For duty — or, at any rate, obliga- 
tions which might be included under that head — 
would not begin and end with office work in London 
or Liverpool. 

“ Serves me right for trying to run away ! ” he 
ruefully reflected. “ One should never run away ; ' 
one should always face things. Even when one can’t 
tell just what one may have to face.” 


THE DARK HORIZON 


229 


The first thing that he had to face when he reached 
Buenos Ayres on a sultry November afternoon was the 
announcement that his father had sailed for New 
York more than a week ago. A long explanatory 
letter accounted for this change of plan by reasons, 
more or less plausible, foremost amongst which was 
the desirability of conferring with a certain financier 
in the United States who had shown some disposition 
to co-operate. 

“ As soon as I have finished with him,” Mr. Hilliar 
wrote, “ I shall make straight for London, where you 
had better join me. I am truly sorry that you should 
take so gloomy a view of our outlook, though I can’t 
say that I am altogether surprised; for of course 
one’s spirits are apt to flag in a tropical desert. Of 
course, too, the other men did their level best to put 
you off. It wasn’t exactly their business to encourage 
rivals, was it ? Personally, I don’t find my faith in 
the least shaken ; but we will talk it all over when we 
meet. Meanwhile, pray write a little more opti- 
mistically to Mr. Cleland than you did to me. Or, if 
that goes against the grain with you, don’t write at 
all. I can’t impress upon you too strongly ...” 
&c., &c. 

What he impressed upon his correspondent with 
great strength and at great length was the criminal 
folly of cutting your own throat. Possibly he did not 
realise — he certainly did not appear to do so, for his 
sophistry was equalled only by his ingenuousness — 
the full significance of his exhortation; but what it 
amounted to, in effect, was that, for the sake of 
obtaining indispensable support, there must be some 


230 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


suppressions of truth and suggestions of falsehood. 
Failing these, let there at least be silence ! 

It was out of the question to oblige him; yet it 
seemed shabby and treacherous to put the extinguisher 
upon him without more ado. Finally Guy decided 
to report in guarded terms to Mr. Cleland that he 
could not, as at present advised, recommend the 
financing of a company which had not yet found its 
feet. No step should be taken before his arrival in 
England, when the whole subject might be discussed. 
That, he knew, would suffice for the temporary 
protection of a shrewd and cautious old gentleman 
whom he was in duty bound to protect. 

But, as the outward mail would not leave for 
several days, there was no hurry about putting pen 
to paper, and before doing so he turned to the formid- 
able heap of letters which had accumulated during 
his absence. He had already glanced at the enve- 
lopes, and had not felt his anxiety to open them 
stimulated by the sight of Lady Freda Barran’s 
handwriting on no less than four. According to her 
ladyship a precedence the reverse of complimentary, 
he perused, with a sinking heart, effusions which did 
not err on the side of reticence. Through what access 
of baleful insanity had he imagined himself in love 
with this woman ? Mentally casting back, he did 
not believe that he had imagined anything of the 
kind. He had never been prone to falling in love, had 
never but once been really in love in the whole course 
of his life — and then he had failed to recognise the 
circumstance ! Being made of flesh and blood, he 
had of course been physically attracted from time to 


THE DARK HORIZON 


231 


time by various women, of whom Lady Freda had 
been one; but never had the heart and soul of him 
been concerned in such fugitive emotions. He had 
accepted them much as one accepts a cold in the head 
or any other experience incidental to one’s humanity ; 
he had not suffered them to interfere for a moment 
with the ordering of his life, present or future. Almost 
he was sorry that he should be like that, almost he 
wished that he could feel a passion which he would 
perforce have to feign. For he was going back to 
Lady Freda — nothing for it, as matters stood, but to 
go back ! — and if she had ever desired a Platonic 
friendship with him, she had evidently jettisoned that 
rather absurd fantasy, and, since he must needs play 
Captain Barran false, it seemed a pity that there 
should be no sort of makeweight for so ignoble a 
compulsion. 

An affectionate and jocular epistle from Wattie 
Cleland did not detain its recipient long. Of course 
poor Wattie was innocent of any intention to set his 
friend’s teeth on edge ; but the circumstances rendered 
him so inevitably grotesque, incongruous, insupport- 
able, that the only thing to be done with him was to 
toss him aside and try to forget him. 

Now it was Audrey’s turn to claim a hearing. 
Audrey had written from the shores of the Lake of 
Geneva, where she and her mother were still lingering, 
although Paris and extensive purchases of clothing 
loomed in the near future. “ Mother gets a melan- 
choly consolation out of the prospect of spending 
hours and hours upon the selection of my trousseau. 
She needs all the consolation she can get, poor dear; 


232 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


for, much as she likes Wattie, she is still oppressed 
by a sense of his unworthiness. ‘ Admirable as far 
as conduct goes, I grant you; high-principled and 
domesticated and all that. But when one looks at 
him, and when one thinks of the matches that you 
might so easily have made ! ’ — Can’t you hear her, 
even from as far off as South America ? She doesn’t 
understand, though perhaps you do, what Wattie’s 
supreme merit is. Anyhow, he just exactly suits me, 
and what more can anybody ask for in a husband ? ” 

Nothing, Guy supposed. At the same time, he 
felt that his perspicacity was unduly flattered; for 
he really could not conjecture what Wattie Cleland’s 
supreme merit might be. Apparently it was not 
beyond Audrey to form a conjecture upon the subject 
of his own special demerits. Without saying in so 
many words that she had guessed the reason of 
his flight to the Western Hemisphere and had further 
guessed his intention of remaining there, she allowed 
it to be inferred that these were no secrets to her. 
Also she intimated that her sympathies were much 
more with Paul Lequesne than with him or with 
Mr. Hilliar. 

“ Fathers who can cheerfully dispense with their 
sons for the best part of a lifetime don’t seem to me 
to deserve a great deal of consideration. Not as 
much, at any rate, as those who have undertaken all 
their duties and haven’t insisted upon their privileges. 
If you throw over Mr. Lequesne — but surely you can’t ! 
— don’t expect me to forgive you, whether he does 
or not. Throw over anybody else you like — some 
people may be dropped without the interposition of 


THE DARK HORIZON 


233 


the Atlantic Ocean — only do remember that he has 
nobody but you and that the more he wants a thing 
the less likely he is to ask for it. That’s his way. 
But you know him just as well as I do, and ought to 
know him much better than I do; so why should I 
preach ? ” 

Two long letters from Paul were pathetic in their 
careful abstention from anything that could be con- 
strued into a demand. He did not even say, as he 
might pardonably have said, that he was lonely, sad 
and out of sorts. Nor did he trespass upon forbidden 
ground. His sole allusion to Audrey (and this was 
probably meant as a considerate warning) was a 
casual mention that the wedding, he understood, 
would not take place until after Christmas. Oh, yes ; 
Guy knew him, and was neither ungrateful nor 
unappreciative. There was no need to remind Guy 
of what he owed to his old man, even though some 
process of throwing over or being thrown over should 
prove to be unavoidable. As for putting in an 
appearance at Audrey’s wedding, why not ? It would 
be considerably easier to go through that ordeal than 
to adopt her sage counsel with regard to a certain 
desertion. Alfred de Musset declared that whenever 
he had loved a woman he had informed her of the 
fact and that whenever he had ceased to do so he had 
used the same sincerity, believing that in affairs of 
the heart “ il n*y a de crime qu’au mensonge.’’ The 
simplicity of the tenet is not without charm ; though 
it ought perhaps to be regarded as a prerogative of 
the Latin races. It could scarcely commend itself 
to a young man so essentially British as Guy Hilliar, 


234 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


who was, moreover, very inexperienced and did not 
know that such ruptures as Audrey hinted at occur 
every day — a bad quarter of an hour being the sole 
cost of them. No; he did not see how he was to 
break with a woman who had avowed her love for him 
and whom he had professed to love. He must accept 
the consequences of his actions, be they what they 
might. 

A hand was laid upon his shoulder while he sat 
forlornly musing. It was Mr. Jackson, who accosted 
him with the cordiality engendered by compulsory 
sojourn in a city whence all acquaintances who could 
make their escape had been driven away by the hot 
season. 

“ So here you are back again ! ” said the friendly 
Jackson. “ Had a good time in El Chaco ? Oh, 
well, of course you didn’t go there for fun. Yes, it 
isn’t exactly an earthly paradise, by all accounts, 
and one’s ardour gets a bit damped when one comes 
face to face with the infernal inaccessibility of these 
places. Not but what I daresay there’s something 
in the timber notion — or will be, with time and 
patience. Mr. Hilliar is off to hustle the New Yorkers, 
as I suppose you know. And you’re off to Europe, 
no doubt. Lucky beggar ! I wish I was ; but it’ll 
be a jolly long time before I get another holiday, as far 
as I can see.” 

Probably Mr. Jackson could form a shrewd surmise 
as to the position of affairs ; but he was discreet and 
generous enough to repress any curiosity that he 
may have felt. Soon Guy was taken to dine at the 
Strangers’ Club, where his host was joined by several 


THE DARK HORIZON 


235 


friends and where an excellent dinner, together with 
much talk of racing and polo, served as correctives 
to dejection. Our young man had recovered a little 
of the sanguine habit of mind which was his birthright 
by the time that he returned to his hotel and, picking 
up an English newspaper a month old, found, as one 
usually does after having been deprived of news for 
a long period, that nothing particular of public 
interest had happened during his absence. Something 
of no small private and personal interest to him had 
happened, though, as he discovered when, in the act 
of laying down the sheet, his eye fell upon the following 
paragraph, headed. Fatal Accident in the Hunting 
Field : 

“ Universal regret will be felt in sporting circles at 
the death of Captain ‘ Jimmy ’ Barran, who suc- 
cumbed yesterday to injuries sustained while cub- 
hunting in Leicestershire a few days ago, when the 
young horse that he was schooling fell heavily at a 
fence and rolled over him. Captain Barran, who was 
very well known as a gentleman rider, was married 
to a daughter of the Duke of Branksome. Lady 
Freda Barran was in Scotland at the time of the 
accident, and, although telegraphed for as soon as 
her husband’s condition was pronounced to be 
hopeless, did not, unfortunately, arrive until he had 
breathed his last.” 

For several minutes Guy stared at those few lines 
of cold print and never moved a muscle. Not that 
he was dazed; for his mind always worked rapidly, 
and what had taken place was only too perceptible 
to him in all its bearings. Poor Barran was dead. 


236 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


and — Barran’s widow was free. That meant the 
end of somebody else’s freedom. He no more doubted 
that it would now be incumbent upon him to marry 
Lady Freda than he doubted that she would wish 
and expect him to marry her. Readers well versed 
in the ways of this wicked world will perhaps have the 
magnanimity to abstain from laughing at him. It 
was, indeed, entirely to his credit that he should 
assume as a matter of course what ought, according 
to every received moral code, to be so assumed, and 
that the lady’s release should appear to him finally 
exclusive of his own. The misfortune was that this 
sudden simplification of a hard case was far less 
tolerable than its intricacies had been. From those 
intricacies he might sooner or later, in this way or in 
that, have emerged; but the bonds of matrimony 
can be loosed only by death or divorce, neither of 
which alternatives smiled at him. So there was at 
least one person outside sporting circles who deplored 
the hapless Captain Barran’s demise with his whole 
heart. 


CHAPTER XX 


MR. HILLIAR IN HIS ELEMENT 

Not a few men in Buenos Ayres and elsewhere were 
wont to affirm that old Jack Hilliar would rob a 
church. But that was only a way of speaking. 
They laughed while they shook their heads and kept 
a soft place in their hearts for a miscreant who had 
always contrived to retain his neighbour’s affections, 
even when he was losing their money and his own. 
Perhaps he was not really a miscreant; perhaps he 
would not have gone so far as to rob a church; 
although it is extremely likely that he would have 
misappropriated any church funds committed to his 
charge, and would have done it in so open, amiable 
and gentlemanlike a way that nobody would have 
held him guilty, save in a technical sense. Techni- 
cally, he had more than once brought himself within 
reach of the law’s arm; he had exhausted the credit 
and credulity of Argentina ; it was currently reported 
(and, for that matter, it was true) that in earlier life 
he had made his native land too hot to hold him. 
Yet the general opinion about him was that, although 
he might be devoid of scruple in relation to money 
matters, he had counterbalancing good qualities in 
such full measure as to account for and justify his 
great popularity. General opinions are seldom at 


238 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


fault. Jack Hilliar had plenty of good qualities, 
and it is much to be regretted that mere commonplace 
honesty could not be included in the list of them. 
He was, as he had truly told Paul Lequesne, an 
adventurer; the dominant note of his character was 
a sporting delight in adventures, sound or unsound, 
and if, after he had embarked upon one of them, 
honesty chanced to stand in the way, honesty had 
to go to the wall. So when his son’s letter from 
El Chaco reached him, he was not long in deciding 
what his own course of action ought to be. Clearly 
he must return to England in advance of a witness 
whose evidence threatened to ruin everything. 
Clearly, too, he must be careful to avoid arousing 
suspicions which might find expression in a cabled 
message to old Mr. Cleland. He therefore wrote 
soothingly to Guy, as aforesaid, and invented the 
North American financier. The loss of time involved 
in taking passage to New York and thence to Liver- 
pool would not be serious ; he calculated upon a lead 
of at least three weeks, and he hoped that he might 
be able to greet Guy’s disembarkation with the 
announcement of an accomplished fact. After that, 
the young man might be uneasy or sceptical, but there 
would be nothing left for him to do but to hold his 
peace. 

Thus it came to pass that Mr. Cleland, driving 
down to his Liverpool place of business one morning, 
had the agreeable surprise of being accosted by a 
caller whom he had not expected to see again so soon, 
and who at once proclaimed himself the herald of 
glad tidings. 


MR. HILLIAR IN HIS ELEMENT 239 


“ I didn’t wait for my son to return from his 
journey of discovery,” Mr. Hilliar said. “ He will 
be following me in a week or two most likely; but 
the news I had from him was so very encouraging, 
and time is of such paramount consequence, that I 
thought I had better slip over here without any 
unnecessary delay.” 

He proceeded to give his talent for romance a free 
rein. The Chaco forests were a gold mine, nothing 
less than that ; the troublesome question of transport 
was as good as solved; approach to the Parana river 
was not going to be the hard matter that had been 
anticipated, and a monopoly secured to the cargo 
steamers of the Cleland line would, it might be 
predicted, prove a highly lucrative one. All this 
sounded colourable enough ; only the extreme urgency 
of the affair was not quite apparent to an elderly, 
deliberate man of business. 

“ But I understand that your Company actually 
owns the property,” Mr. Cleland observed. 

“ That is so,” the other assented; “ but we don’t 
own the entire district. I wish we did ! There are 
already rivals in the field, my son tells me, and it’s 
of the last importance for us to forestall competition. 
My one fear is that, even now, we may turn out to 
have been too dilatory, owing to lack of funds. I 
don’t mean that I have any doubt as to our ultimately 
acquiring all the land we need; still you know what 
competition is. Our object should be to get these 
people to sell their holdings to us at a reasonable 
price.” 

His object, in brief, was to get an issue of capital 


240 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


on the part of the Chaco Development Company 
influentially underwritten, and he seemed to be in a 
fair way towards attaining it. Without definitely 
committing himself, Mr. Cleland spoke reassuringly 
and suggested the visit to London which would have 
been made in any case. 

“ You had better go and look up my boy Walter, 
who has a sound head on his shoulders, though some 
folks take him for a buffoon. Well, I don’t know 
why a business man shouldn’t amuse himself out of 
business hours by comic acting, if he has a turn that 
way. Enlarges the circle of his acquaintance and 
so forth. In fact, I rather think it was through 
private theatricals that Walter first came to know 
his future wife. Miss Baldwin — you’ll have heard 
about her and her mother from your son, no doubt. 
A charming girl, and Mrs. Baldwin is a very agreeable 
woman.” 

“ Oh, yes,” answered Mr. Hilliar, with a retrospec- 
tive smile, “ I heard of Mrs. and Miss Baldwin from 
Guy, and from Mr. Lequesne too. I believe Mrs. 
Baldwin was one of the people to whom poor Vigors 
gave a circumstantial account of my death years 
ago.” 

Mr. Cleland looked momentarily embarrassed ; 
for he remembered on a sudden his son’s having told 
him how Mrs. Baldwin had written about Vigors as 
a rascally swindler, and had added that she would 
not be at all surprised if Guy’s newly found father 
were to turn out another. This caused him to remark, 
with apparent irrelevance : 

“ Ah, well 1 ladies are apt to be prejudiced. And 


MR. HILLIAR IN HIS ELEMENT 241 


then, you see, Mrs. Baldwin is one of Mr. Lequesne’s 
oldest and most intimate friends.” 

“ So that, for his sake, she naturally wishes I had 
had the good taste to stay dead ? ” suggested Mr. 
Hilliar, still smiling. 

He could generally guess what was passing through 
the minds of his interlocutors, and it was seldom 
indeed that he allowed such clairvoyance to perturb 
him. “ But really,” he went on, “ Mrs. Baldwin 
needn’t be sorry for anybody’s sake. I am — as 
of course I ought to be — the least authoritative of 
fathers, and I have never wished or meant that my 
gain of a son should be Mr. Lequesne’s loss.” 

In all truth and sincerity, he had never meant 
that it should be Guy’s loss. If there was one thing 
for which he was more anxious than for the salvation 
of the menaced Chaco Company, it was the main- 
tenance of his son’s connection with Paul. He had 
half a mind to take Stone Hall on a circuitous route 
to London, in order to deliver affectionate messages 
with which he had not been charged, but decided, 
upon consideration, against a possibly unwelcome 
display of officiousness. 

If he had made his way to Stone Hall, he would 
have been confronted by shuttered windows and 
barred doors. It had long been Paul’s habit to spend 
the greater part of the winter in Northumberland, 
for he rather enjoyed the rigour of the climate and 
wild-fowl shooting was still the form of sport which 
pleased him most ; but this year for the first time he 
had found the loneliness of his abode oppressive. It 
had somehow struck him as desperately symbolic 

R 


242 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


of the lonely future that he must expect; so all of 
a sudden he had betaken himself to Chester Square — 
less because it was Chester Square than because it 
was not Stone Hall. By way of ostensible reasons 
for the move, he had work on hand (blessedly urgent 
work demanded by an editor in a hurry) which could 
be more easily prosecuted within reach of the British 
Museum; also the Baldwins were due home from 
Paris, and he wanted to see Audrey. 

Audrey wanted to see him. She was troubled in 
her mind about her old friend, and a rapid scrutiny 
of his appearance, when she descended upon him 
immediately after her arrival in London, did not tend 
to reassure her. 

“ You’ve been moping and grousing,” said she 
accusingly. 

“ I have,” Paul admitted. “ Why not ? ” 

“ Because it can’t be allowed. Besides, you may 
have been doing it without any cause, or for the wrong 
cause. I suppose you know that Guy is coming 
home ? ” 

Paul started. “ No ; there wasn’t a hint of that 
in his last letter, which came some weeks ago. Have 
you heard from him ? ” 

“Not from him; but I have heard from Mr. 
Cleland — or at least Wattie has — that Mr. Hilliar 
landed at Liverpool the other day and that Guy is 
to follow soon. It appears that they got through 
their business in Argentina in a shorter time than 
they expected.” 

“ And satisfactorily ? ” 

“ More than satisfactorily, according to Mr. Hilliar ; 


MR. HILLIAR IN HIS ELEMENT 243 


but Wattie seems to think Mr. Hilliar’s account may 
require confirming.” 

“ I am disposed to agree with Wattie. At any rate, 
I don’t see why, if the Company is prospering, Guy 
should be in haste to return to this country.” 

“ That’s just it. Of course one is glad, in a way, 
that he is coming; but — it has the effect of being 
rather sudden, hasn’t it ? Especially as we know 
that there were some good reasons for his not returning 
to this country in haste.” 

Paul looked quickly at her, saw that she did not 
mean what he had fancied for a moment that she 
might mean, and laughed. “ Oh, I don’t think those 
reasons matter much,” said he; for indeed he did 
not think that they were now likely to matter at all. 

But Audrey was insistent and explicit. “ I’ve a 
horrid fear that orders may have been issued to him. 
You know, he’s capable of marrying her.” 

“ Of marrying the widowed Lady Freda Barran ? ” 
asked Paul, raising his eyebrows. “ I take leave to 
doubt it.” 

“ That’s so exasperating of you ! You mean that 
he isn’t such a fool ? But indeed he is ! In some 
ways Guy is just about the most foolish fool I know. 
Promise me that you won’t let him do this crazy 
thing ! ” 

“ Well, you see, my dear Audrey, he isn’t under 
my control.” 

“ Take up that line and we’re lost ! You’ve been 
taking up that line — don’t say you haven’t, because 
I know you have and I knew you would — and look 
at the results ! You fret yourself to fiddlestrings, 


244 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


Guy’s feelings are hurt, and Lady Freda rules the 
situation. Or else perhaps Mr. Hilliar does.” 

“ Mr. Hilliar has natural rights.” 

“ He seems to have hesitated a long time before 
he asserted them. And I have a rather strong 
suspicion that when he did, it was only because he 
thought they might be made to pay. Meanwhile, 
what about your rights ? ” 

“ Really I haven’t any. In fairness to Mr. Hilliar, 
I ought to say that he offered to surrender Guy to me 
unconditionally — or almost unconditionally. But of 
course I couldn’t agree to that. It was for Guy to 
choose between us.” 

“ How you would make me hate you if I didn’t 
adore you ! Guy is foolish and tiresome enough, but 
you beat him out of sight. As if one chucked all that 
made one’s life worth having for the sake of a little 
rubbishy, misplaced pride ! ” 

“ Do you think I have been scolded enough now ? ” 
asked Paul meekly. 

“ Nothing like enough ; but I leave it to your own 
conscience to deal with you. Anyhow, rights or no 
rights, you can’t allow him to marry that woman ! ” 
“ I don’t believe he wants to marry her, and I 
should think it improbable that she wants to marry 
him. Still, I will go so far as to say that such a 
marriage will not take place without a most vigorous 
protest from me. Any further instructions ? ” 

“ Not today. Perhaps, after I have had a good 
look at Mr. Hilliar ...” 

“ Are you going to have a look at him ? ” 

Audrey nodded. “ He is to call at Wattle’s office 


MR. HILLIAR IN HIS ELEMENT 245 


tomorrow morning, and I’ve arranged that he is to 
be brought to lunch with mother and me afterwards. 
He may be all right ; only I have my doubts. I shall 
soon see what sort of a person he is, though, and then 
we’ll talk him over, you and I, and decide what is to 
be done about him.” 

One might look long and often at Mr. Hilliar before 
deciding what ought to be done about him, and even 
then it might not prove quite the easiest thing in the 
world to act upon one’s decision. Less because he 
was convincing than because he was so light-hearted, 
so sanguine, such a good fellow, had many a hard- 
headed man of business been talked over by him; 
so that if he had made a virtual conquest of old Mr. 
Cleland, there did not seem to be much likelihood of 
his encountering serious resistance on the part of 
Mr. Cleland’s son. Indeed, he did not anticipate 
any. He called by appointment at that young 
gentleman’s City office, said what he had to say 
cheerfully and concisely, was listened to with 
deferential attention and was promised such facilities 
for an early conference with fiscal potentates as 
Cleland and Son were in a position to guarantee. 

“ Of course, Mr. Hilliar,” the young man added, 
“ my father will have explained that that is all we, 
as a firm, can do for you. Later on, when your scheme 
has materialised and the question of freight arises, 
we may transact business together, and I hope we 
shall; but our own capital, naturally, must not be 
diverted . . 

“ From your own business,” interrupted Mr. 
Hilliar, with a goodhumoured laugh. “ My dear 


246 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


fellow, that’s self-evident. The point is that we’re 
going, incidentally, to give your business such a 
hoist up that I think we may reasonably ask for your 
support.” 

He launched forth into particulars, waxing eloquent 
and descriptive, as his manner was, and enjoying his 
own picturesque diction, as he always did, while his 
auditor nodded at intervals, and put in a sagacious 
remark or two. Walter Cleland was in truth a 
practised student of humanity who knew as well as 
another how to classify and interpret types. More- 
over, he had had his instructions from Audrey. 
After a time, he looked at his watch and said : 

“ Now, Mr. Hilliar, won’t you come and be my 
guest at a West End restaurant ? I’m afraid I must 
be off, because the girl I’m going to marry and her 
mother have promised to lunch with me ; but I told 
them I should very likely be bringing you, and they’ll 
be delighted to make your acquaintance. They’re 
old friends of Guy’s, as you know.” 

Mr. Hilliar had a moment of perceptible hesitation. 
Did he conjecture that his son’s old friends were 
anxious to take stock of him and were not too favour- 
ably disposed towards him ? However, his reluctance, 
if he felt any, was speedily overcome. 

“ Oh, well ! ” said he, with a sudden chuckle, as 
at some diverting thought which he did not express 
or explain. 

Possibly he flattered himself — he had ample 
warrant for so doing — that ladies were even more 
susceptible than men to the fascination of his address, 
and that to disarm the not unnatural hostility of Mrs. 


MR. HILLIAR IN HIS ELEMENT 247 


Baldwin and her daughter would be no hard affair. 
Be that as it may, he had nothing to complain of in 
the manner of his reception by them, though it did 
not take him many minutes to recognise that the 
younger lady would require more careful handling 
than the elder. That both were scrutinising him 
narrowly, after they had taken their places at the 
little flower-bedecked table, was manifest ; only there 
was a difference between their respective attitudes 
and apparent aims which could be felt. Mrs. Baldwin’s 
steady, intent gaze seemed to imply nothing more 
than curiosity; she was quite gracious, smiling and 
ready to be won over by the somewhat old-fashioned 
gallantries of her neighbour. Miss Audrey, on the 
other hand, had the unmistakable air of one who, 
while holding judgment in abeyance, distrusts soft 
speeches. Mr. Hilliar tried her at first with com- 
pliments which were thoroughly sincere, (for he 
thought her an extremely pretty and attractive 
young woman); then, finding himself on the wrong 
road, forsook it straightway in favour of a frank, 
paternal mien which served his turn far better. 
Evidently she was much interested in Guy, as to 
whose plans she asked quick, direct questions. When 
was he coming to England ? Why was he coming ? 
Did he mean to return to Argentina or not ? 

Mr. Hilliar laughed and shrugged his shoulders. 
“ I’m afraid I can only keep on replying that I 
don’t know,” he declared. “ I haven’t heard from 
him since I left Buenos Ayres, and I shall not 
be told what his intentions are until we meet — if 
then.” 


248 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ But I suppose you know what you wish him to 
do,” the girl persisted. 

“ Oh, yes ; that’s easily stated. I wish him to 
please himself. Also I must confess that I wish him 
to please Mr. Lequesne, to whom he owes everything.” 

Audrey made a slight approving gesture. “ And 
it stands to reason,” she remarked, “ that he can’t 
please Mr. Lequesne by going back to South America. 
Still . . .” 

“ Yes ? ” said Mr. Hilliar interrogatively. 

But she did not conclude her sentence. At intervals 
she put further queries, which were met with straight- 
forward answers. She gathered that Mr. Hilliar 
knew nothing about Lady Freda Barran ; she likewise 
received the impression that he had no sinister or 
selfish designs. He assured her, indeed, in so many 
words of his necessarily detached standpoint with 
regard to Guy. 

“You see. Miss Baldwin, the fact is that I am 
debarred by my own act from interfering with him or 
dictating to him in any way. I look upon him rather 
as a young friend than as my son; only perhaps, 
since he is my son, I am all the more shy of thrusting 
advice upon him. That’s as it should be, don’t you 
think so ? ” 

Thus by degrees he made his way into her good 
graces. He took some trouble about it, for his quick 
wit had revealed to him that she was important. 
What was supremely important was to secure the 
friendly offices of Cleland and Son. These were — 
for the time being, at all events — palpably dependent 
upon the queer little cock-nosed fellow who was just 


MR. HILLIAR IN HIS ELEMENT 249 


as palpably under the domination of Miss Baldwin. 
Why on earth she had fallen in love with the queer 
little cock-nosed fellow and had reserved a mere 
sisterly affection for handsome Guy was an amusing, 
but incidental, puzzle. It did not directly concern 
Mr. Hilliar, whose business was only to convince her 
that he was a kindly and harmless old gentleman. 
Upon the whole, he greatly enjoyed his luncheon, 
which partook of the nature of an adventure in more 
ways than one. He enjoyed all adventures — giving 
the preference, of course, to successful ones. 

“ I wonder,” said Mrs. Baldwin, as she prepared 
to rise, “ whether Mr. Hilliar would care to motor 
down to Marlow with me and see my little riverside 
abode.” 

Mrs. Baldwin, it need scarcely be said, had not been 
neglected while the affable guest had been conciliating 
her daughter, and she appeared to be in high good 
humour with him. It was not, she owned, the best 
time of the year for exhibiting the beauties of Weir 
Cottage ; still the afternoon was fine, and she must 
absolutely betake herself thither in order to inspect 
certain alterations and additions to the house which 
were in progress. 

“ Walter and Audrey are going to look at a football 
match; so it would really be an act of charity on 
your part to come and keep me company.” 

“ My dear lady,” cried the charmed Mr. Hilliar, 
“ you are too kind ! I can’t imagine anything that 
I should like better.” 

It would have been difficult to imagine any proposal 
that would have surprised the two young people more. 


250 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


They exchanged glances and Audrey lifted her eye- 
brows, while Wattle’s lips shaped themselves as if 
to emit a whistle ; for never before in the memory of 
either of them had Mrs. Baldwin been known to 
show such emphatic favour to an untitled stranger. 
However, they assumed (and were not mistaken in 
assuming) that she had her reasons. 


CHAPTER XXI 


OLD SCORES 

Seated in Mrs. Baldwin’s luxurious landaulette- 
motor and finishing the cigarette which he had been 
begged not to throw away, Mr. Hilliar might well feel 
that a successful day promised to terminate as 
agreeably for him as it had begun. His features 
expressed complacency and self-approval ; sentiments 
which — owing to some cause not quite equally 
apparent — were reflected upon those of his companion. 
Stealing a side glance at her, he thought to himself 
that she looked uncommonly like a plump, sleek cat 
who has just caught a mouse. The fancy tickled him 
and increased his curiosity as to what her game might 
be. For of course she had a game; no more than 
Wattie and Audrey did he imagine that he had been 
invited to join in this rural expedition from motives 
of pure sociability. Divers tentative essays, however, 
elicited nothing illuminating in the way of response. 
She was not, as elderly ladies so often are, in quest of 
a lucrative investment; she did not seem to be, as 
her daughter had undoubtedly been, inquisitive and 
a trifle suspicious ; she simply reclined in her corner, 
purring gently and holding her interlocutor, as it 
were, at arm’s length. 


251 


252 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ How nice of you to say so ! Yes, although I am 
dear Audrey’s mother, I must agree with you that 
Walter Cleland is a fortunate man. Guy ? Oh, 
almost like a son of my own ; he has been constantly 
with us ever since he was a little boy. Charmed to 
hear that you think so highly of his talents ! ” 

It was with such colourless phrases that she made 
reply while the car was deftly steered through crowded 
streets in the failing light of the short winter after- 
noon. Her voice sounded amiable, but her attention 
was not engaged; more than once she omitted to 
return any answer at all. Only when the suburbs 
had been reached and speed had been increased did 
Mr. Hilliar, trying this subject and that, hit upon one 
which seemed to rouse her from her reverie. 

“ I can’t help having a rather guilty feeling about 
Mr. Lequesne,” he was saying. “ You, as his most 
intimate friend, probably know that he doesn’t like 
me, though I happen to have a very sincere liking and 
admiration for him. Perhaps it would be rather 
strange if he did like me.” 

“ Really I think it would,” Mrs. Baldwin assented, 
and at last she spoke with a distinct change of 
intonation. 

“ Well — of course. And, as I say, I do feel guilty. 
All the same, I have honestly and earnestly tried to 
avoid giving him any cause for complaint, except by 
the fact of my existence.” 

“ There was the fact of your announcing that you 
existed,” Mrs. Baldwin observed. 

“ Ah, exactly ! That was my unpardonable offence. 
I had excuses — or, at any rate, I thought I had — for 


OLD SCORES 253 

dying ; but it was breaking all the rules to come to life 
again.” 

“ Which rules ? ” Mrs. Baldwin inquired. 

“ The rules of the game of life, as he understands 
them. Mind you, I think he misunderstands them. 
I can’t see why a player who has withdrawn from the 
game should be forbidden to look on at it and interest 
himself in it. I can’t see why the man who has taken 
his place should jump up at once and say, ‘ Since you 
have chosen to return, I must hand over my cards to 
you.’ ” 

“Was that what Paul Lequesne said to you ? ” 

“ Something tantamount to that, and really it 
distresses me. I’m human ; I’m alone in the world ; 
it’s no great wonder, I suppose, that I have become 
attached to Guy and that I don’t want to be parted 
from him. But I don’t want, and I never did want, 
to part him from Mr. Lequesne.” 

“ I am sure you can never have wanted to make 
such a very bad bargain,” said Mrs. Baldwin, with a 
short laugh. “ A bargain of another sort may have 
looked feasible and tempting ; but poor, dear Paul is 
a difficult subject. What you call the rules of the 
game have always been so clear and simple to him ! 
It would no more occur to him to offer a bribe than to 
accept one.” 

Mr. Hilliar received a disagreeable shock. Plain 
enough was it to him now that he had to deal with no 
friend in this placid, elderly lady, and if he had 
obeyed his natural fighting instincts, he would have 
invited her to unmask her batteries then and there. 
But for form’s sake he made a mild, pained protest. 


254 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ My dear Mrs. Baldwin, of what are you accusing 
me ?” 

She did not reply. The car was sweeping at full 
speed along level stretches of country road ; the bare 
branches of the trees were black against a fiery sunset ; 
Mrs. Baldwin, silent and motionless in her corner, 
remained obstinately deaf to queries and assurances 
from which her neighbour was at length fain to desist. 
She was biding her time, he presumed ; doubtless she 
had something up her sleeve which would be produced 
presently ; he was even beginning to guess what that 
something was likely to be. Therefore he was 
scarcely taken by surprise when — Slough having been 
left behind, after some temporary abatement of pace — 
she straightened herself up on a sudden and said : 

“You have been owing me a hundred pounds 
rather a long time, Mr. Vigors.” 

“ So you did recognise me,” he coolly returned, 
“ notwithstanding my white beard and all. Well, 
well ! it was a risk of course, but I was bound to take 
it. Even if I had declined young Cleland’s invitation 
we must have met sooner or later, and I trusted to 
Time, who hasn’t been as merciful to me as he has to 
you. How many years is it ? Seventeen or eighteen, 
I suppose. I’m so sorry about the hundred pounds. 
To tell the truth, that kind loan of yours had entirely 
escaped my treacherous memory ; but you shall have 
a cheque tomorrow. As a mere matter of curiosity, 
may I ask whether you knew me at once ? ” 

“ I knew you the moment that I saw your eyes,” 
Mrs. Baldwin replied. “You have rather odd eyes, 
with green streaks in them, and my memory happens 


OLD SCORES 


255 


to be a good one. Unlike yours, which is not the only 
treacherous quality that distinguishes you, Mr. Vigors. 
We will say no more about the loan ; I feel that I am 
fully repaid — or shall be soon. For although you 
seem inclined to put a bold face upon it, you must 
realise that you are in my power, and you may be 
sure that I shall do my duty.” 

He was very sure that he was in a tight place, very 
sure that, by a cruel stroke of ill luck, the Chaco 
Development Company was destined to perish for 
lack of sustenance. Nevertheless, he did not take 
her whole meaning. 

“You intend, I suppose,” said he, “ to publish 
abroad what I can’t deny, that I was guilty of an act 
of imposture many years ago. If that is your notion 
of duty, so be it ! Yet I hardly know who will benefit 
or who will thank you. Not my unfortunate and 
innocent son, for one.” 

“ I imagine that Guy Hilliar will be as thankful as 
he ought to be to hear that he is not your son.” 

“ But he is ! I am really his father and my name 
is really Hilliar, though circumstances obliged me to 
adopt an alias when I first had the pleasure of making 
your acquaintance. If you will kindly listen to me 
for five minutes, I will tell you the whole truth.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Vigors, but the truth is the last 
thing that I should expect to hear from you, and I 
haven’t left myself time for listening to more fables. 
You can relate them, if you think it worth while, to 
the police, who are well acquainted with your history, 
I believe. Don’t attempt to jump out of the car, 
unless you wish to commit suicide.” 


256 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ I have no intention of jumping out,” Mr. Hilliar 
declared, “ and I doubt whether the police would take 
me into custody upon the charge of an offence alleged 
to have been committed abroad so many years ago.” 

“ There were offences committed in this country,” 
returned Mrs. Baldwin grimly ; “ forgery being one 
of them. I daresay some of the people whom you 
swindled when you passed under the name of Hamilton 
are still alive and will be glad to have news of you. 
The only reason why I did not drive you to the nearest 
police-station was that I preferred to confront you 
with Paul Lequesne, who is waiting for me by appoint- 
ment at my cottage. You are so clever and shifty 
that there’s no knowing what you might not contrive 
to make him believe if you were not brought face to 
face with him in my presence. As it is, even you will 
have to own yourself checkmated. You ought to 
have sworn that you were not Vigors and had never 
been in Florence in your life. It’s far from certain 
that you would have been identified by anybody but 
me.” 

Not altogether through regret at having neglected 
that palpable line of defence did Mr. Hilliar refrain 
from further parley with an implacable foe. That 
Mrs. Baldwin was cognizant of the fictitious Hamil- 
ton’s exploits came as a most unwelcome revelation to 
him; for that ugly affair of the forged cheque was 
perhaps the only one amongst his numerous delin- 
quencies of which he felt heartily ashamed. So 
strange and manifold are the methods and survivals 
of conscience. It had been a cheque for a trifling 
amount, written under pressure of urgent need for 


OLD SCORES 


257 


cash ; yet on that one occasion he had been a down- 
right felon, and he had never been able to forget it. 
Other peccadilloes he had forgotten and forgiven 
liimself as readily as we all forgive ourselves the 
follies of youth; but he did not in the least like it 
to be known that he had once imitated somebody 
else’s signature. Therefore he hung his head and held 
his peace. For the rest, Mrs. Baldwin had calculated 
distance and speed with such accuracy that in another 
minute the car had been brought to a standstill at the 
door of Weir Cottage, near which a tall, stooping 
man, with a pipe in his mouth, was pacing to and 
fro. 

“You are rather late,” Paul Lequesne remarked, as 
he advanced to greet Mrs. Baldwin. Then, catching 
sight of her companion, he held out his hand and said : 
“ I heard that you were in England, but I didn’t know 
that I was to have the pleasure of meeting you as 
soon.” 

“ Nor did I,” returned the other imperturbably. 
“ It is a little surprise which our kind friend here has 
thoughtfully arranged for us both.” 

“ I have seen the architect,” Paul began, as they 
entered the drawingroom, where a bright fire had been 
lighted and a tea-table made ready. “ He is prepared 
to carry out your instructions ; but he and I agree in 
thinking ...” 

“ Oh, you think I’m mistaken, no doubt,” broke in 
Mrs. Baldwin; “one of you has a way of thinking 
that I’m generally mistaken. Yet every now and 
then the stupidest people turn out to be right, and I 
must say for myself that I suspected all along you 
s 


258 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


were rather too ready to believe in this gentleman’s 
being what he gave out that he was. Let me intro- 
duce him to you. He is not Mr. Hilliar at all ; he 
is Mr. Vigors, alias Hamilton, alias several other 
persons, I believe ; and if he has got any money out 
of you, I am afraid there is very little chance of your 
ever seeing it back.” 

It may be hoped that she enjoyed herself. Life 
of late had not shaped very enjoyably for her, and it 
was in her nature to hold somebody (though not 
always the right person) responsible for adverse 
episodes. Perhaps it was not, strictly speaking, either 
Paul Lequesne’s or Guy Hilliar’s fault that her 
daughter was about to make a tiresome, unsatisfactory 
marriage; yet she had something of a grievance 
against them both; they had both been disappoint- 
ing, and in her heart she was more attached to them 
than to any other friends whom she possessed. To 
be enabled, therefore, to put them to confusion, to 
render them a genuine service and to requite that 
miscreant Vigors at one and the same time was a 
luxury such as Fate seldom awards to discernment 
and desert. 

“ Oh, by all means ! ” said she blandly, when the 
somewhat bewildered dialogue which ensued had 
culminated in a request on the part of the accused 
that he might be permitted to make an explanatory 
statement. “ From the moment that Mr. Vigors 
admits the truth of my statement I have nothing 
against his making as many as he likes on his own 
account, true or untrue. Only, as I am pretty certain 
that he will not speak the truth, and as I really know 


OLD SCORES 


259 


all that I care to know about him, I think I will go 
and have my interview with the architect while he 
talks.” 

“ What unaccountable beings women are ! ” mur- 
mured Mr. Hilliar, smiling pensively, as she swept out 
of the room. “ One would have expected her to 
be full of interest and curiosity; but there’s never 
any telling how they will take things. I wonder 
whether her idea is to give me a chance of bolting. 
Not impossible; for although I daresay she would 
like very well to have me arrested, she would hate 
running the gauntlet of publicity and ridicule. 
Besides, she may feel that she and I are quits. She 
was always a good-natured sort of creature, if rather 
a goose.” 

Paul cut short these desultory reflections with some 
sternness. “ Please come to the point,” said he. 
“ Of course you cannot be Vigors.” 

“ Oh, of course not. Vigors died at Malaga in the 
spring of 1891. It was easy, and it happened to be 
particularly convenient, for me to establish a con- 
fusion of identity in an hotel where nobody knew 
which of us was which. Hence the official documents 
which you possess. There you have the whole story 
in brief. My encounter with Mrs. Baldwin in Italy 
was a mere freak of destiny. Rather an unfortunate 
one for me, as things have fallen out; but there 
seems to be a sort of rough justice in the sequence of 
human affairs, and if one only lives long enough, one 
ends by paying for one’s fun. It was great fun at the 
time, I remember,” Mr. Hilliar concluded, with a 
retrospective smile. 


260 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ I see nothing funny in robbery and imposture,” 
remarked Paul curtly. 

“ You wouldn’t. You’re incapacitated by your 
mental and moral structure from entering into the 
diversions that belong to mine. The very last time 
that we had a talk together I told you I was an 
adventurer, as you may recollect. I can’t put it 
more lucidly; but I should despair of ever getting 
you to understand what the term implies.” 

“ It appears, at any rate,” observed Paul, “ to 
imply a faculty for boundless mendacity. What 
about that long, connected narrative of your having 
been pushed over a cliff near San Sebastian by your 
confederate ? ” 

“Mendacious, my dear sir; purely mendacious 
from start to finish ! Not without artistic merit, 
though, considering that I had to make it up almost 
as I went along. And it served.” 

“ It has served to show me that I can’t believe a 
single word you say. What proof is there, for 
instance, that this man Vigors is really dead ? ” 

“ He is quite dead. Those Spanish documents — 
which were the weak point in my case, by the way, 
only you didn’t insist — prove beyond all possibility 
of doubt that an English traveller died at Malaga in 
April 1891. That person was not Jack Hilliar, who 
now stands before you and whom you have recognised. 
The trouble for Jack Hilliar is that it was he, not 
Vigors, who personated Hamilton and I can’t tell 
you how many other fictitious sportsmen. What a 
game it was ! How I kept it up year after year ! 
Well, as I was saying, I’m accountable for Hamilton, 


OLD SCORES 


261 


and it’s more than probable that Mrs. Baldwin, 
reinforced by Scotland Yard, could send me to 
prison; for Hamilton, I am very sorry to have to 
confess to you, was once fool enough to sign a cheque 
with another man’s name. There ! — now you’re 
au fait ! ” 

“ Upon my word,” exclaimed Paul, after a pause, 
“ I think you had better take to your heels ! ” 

“ So do I. The pursuit, I imagine, won’t be very 
hot. Even Mrs. Baldwin, when you have convinced 
her that I am the father of my son, will hardly wish 
to put me in the dock. Why should she ? — why 
should any of you ? I couldn’t be more effectually 
or permanently swept out of your lives by a sentence 
of penal servitude, and you escape the reflected 
obloquy.” 

A few steps took him to one of the French windows, 
which he opened. 

“ I’m going to walk to the station,” he announced — 
“ the railway station, not the other one. Tell 
Mrs. Baldwin so, if you like; though I fancy she 
would rather picture me flying across country in 
abject terror. Goodbye, Mr. Lequesne; I don’t ask 
you to forgive the vexation that I have caused you, 
because I haven’t a doubt that you will. It’s so easy 
to have mercy upon the fallen ! ” 

But Paul quickly followed and intercepted him. 
“ One moment, please ! I did not mean you to take 
what I said so literally, and I am not quite clear 
that I ought to let you go.” 

“ Oh, if you think you ought to send for a polic^- 
Plan ! . . , , 


262 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ There will be no question of that. The question 
for me is how Guy would wish me to act. You are — 
well, you have been telling me what you are. Yet 
I can’t forget what he will certainly remember, that 
you are his father.” 

“ He won’t remember that humiliating circumstance 
long.” 

“ He will always remember it,” said Paul sadly and 
a little bitterly. “ You talk about our escaping 
reflected obloquy; but he can’t escape it. He has 
accepted you, he has identifled himself with you . . .” 

“ Not to the extent of being dragged down by me. 
My poor Chaco Company, it’s true, is done for — just 
as I was upon the verge of setting it flrmly upon its 
legs too ! — but you’ll And when you see him that he 
himself was disposed to give it its death-blow. He 
didn’t believe much in the Chaco Company.” 

“ He believed in you, though.” 

“ I’m not sure. If he believed — but I doubt 
whether he did — that I care a lot more for his welfare 
than I do for my own, he made no mistake. I have 
my little virtues, as well as my vices, Mr. Lequesne.” 

“ Who hasn’t ? I am not passing judgment upon 
you ; I am only wondering whether a decent man can 
repudiate his own father, vicious or virtuous.” 

“ How does that point arise ? I shan’t, unless you 
force me, wait here to be repudiated. Obviously I 
have got to clear out of this country, and I take it 
that the best thing I can do for my son is never to be 
heard of again. I presume I may also take it that 
with my disappearance he will revert to his old 
position and his old prospects in relation to you ? ” 


OLD SCORES 


263 


The last interrogative phrase jarred upon Paul, 
who, in spite of himself, had been softening towards a 
man devoid, indeed, of honesty and honour, yet not 
wholly devoid of saving graces. He had never con- 
templated disinheriting Guy; but he had not seen, 
and did not now see, why he should give pledges to 
Mr. Hilliar. So, instead of making a direct reply, he 
observed drily : 

“You don’t seem to realise that you can’t, with 
your light-hearted appearances and disappearances, 
obliterate the footprints that you leave. When you 
let Guy know that he had a father living you took an 
ineffaceable step.” 

Mr. Hilliar flushed and for the first time displayed 
some signs of annoyance. “ Oh you philosophic 
moralists ! ” he exclaimed. “ You fancy yourselves 
liberal, and you’re narrower by a long way than the 
Church which you like to call bigoted. The Church 
understands humanity; you have only a bemused 
familiarity with dialectics. The Church, which 
recognises the staring fact that all human beings are 
sinners, offers pardon and pity for sins; you can’t, 
because your silly theories of logic won’t allow you. 
So at the end of all you find yourselves in the same 
boat with the fanatical Hebrew lawgiver who pro- 
claimed the Almighty as a jealous God, visiting the 
sins of the fathers upon the children. What a futile 
figure you cut ! ” 

“ I only reminded you that effects follow causes,” 
said Paul, a little surprised by this outbreak. “ The 
Church of Rome doesn’t dispute that, I believe.” 

Mr. Hilliar sighed and laughed. “ Oh, well,” he 


264 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


returned, “ what’s the good of my blustering ? I’m 
helpless, anyway ; I can but trust that your common 
sense may prove more than a match for your logic. 
Fortunately, the chances are that it will. Now I’m 
off. I shall be at the Carlton Hotel until tomorrow 
morning, in case you and Mrs. Baldwin should decide, 
after further deliberation, to lay hands upon me.” 

He stepped out into the garden, waved his hand 
with an indescribable blending of jauntiness, defiance 
and dejection, and so was gone, Paul making no 
further effort to detain him. 


CHAPTER XXII 


SAGACIOUS WATTIE 

Audrey Baldwin was wont to declare that football 
— whether Rugby or Association, but preferably 
Rugby — affords the keenest enjoyment to spectators 
that is to be got out of looking on at any game. Vast 
multitudes appear to be of her opinion, and if there 
was one humble individual who did not share her 
enthusiasm to the full, he knew a great deal better 
than to say so. Walter Cleland knew several things 
in connection with his betrothed better than he 
liked them; but he was a sensible little fellow, who 
realised that if we insist upon having things as we 
should like in this complex world, we run no small risk 
of obtaining nothing at all. Between him and the 
girl who was soon to be his wife there existed an 
unformulated, yet clearly understood, compact in 
virtue of which they had become the best of friends. 
Any breach, or attempted breach, thereof might prove 
fatal to friendship, while it assuredly would not create 
love in the breast of a young woman who openly 
proclaimed her conviction that love was nauseous 
rubbish. Poor Wattie, well aware that tender 
passions are seldom evoked by such features as his, 
had to make the best of that ; and he bravely did so, 
265 


266 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


telling himself in occasional moments of despondency 
how jolly thankful he ought to be that Audrey held 
views to which alone he was indebted for his amazing 
good fortune. 

Therefore he sat contentedly by her side while she 
watched, with dilated eyes, the vicissitudes of a 
contest which she found in the highest degree exciting. 
He also managed to grow a little excited, and they 
conversed very much as a couple of schoolboys might 
have done, giving their entire attention to the game 
until it ended gloriously in a narrow victory for the 
side which they both favoured. Only when they 
were driving away together in a hansom, (Audrey 
preferred that doomed vehicle to its mechanical 
supplanter,) did Wattie’s recent guest come up for 
deferred criticism. 

“ Quite nice,” was Audrey’s verdict ; “ much nicer 
than I expeeted. Straight, too, as far as one could 
judge.” 

“Yes,” Wattie agreed, with just a tinge of dubious- 
ness. 

“ Do you mean that he isn’t straight ? ” 

“ Oh, I daresay he’s all right; time will show. I 
wonder what your mother knows about him.” 

“ She can’t know anything about him.” 

“ I expect she knows something. Either that or 
she wants to find out something. I had my eye on 
her at lunch, and I saw that, for all her affability, he 
wasn’t making quite so much headway with her as 
he was with you.” 

Audrey gave him a friendly prod in the ribs with 
her elbow. “ Nothing escapes those little squeezed-up 


SAGACIOUS WATTIE 267 

eyes of yours ! ” she cried. “ They’re always taking 
notes.” 

“ It’s what they’re for,” said Wattie demurely. 
“ They’re useless for the sort of purpose to which old 
Hilliar puts his.” 

He drew himself up, expanded his chest, directed a 
benevolently admiring gaze at his neighbour and said, 
in an exact reproduction of Mr. Hilliar’s voice, “ My 
dear young lady, pray believe that I am neither selfish 
nor ungrateful. I recognise as fully as you can what 
is due to Mr. Lequesne.” 

Audrey laughed. “ Well, I believe he does,” she 
returned. “ I only hope Guy does ! ” 

“ One hardly knows,” observed Wattie, resuming 
his ordinary demeanour, “ what to hope about Guy.” 

“ One knows what to fear. But that mustn’t 
happen. You mustn’t allow it to happen ! ” 

“ Good gracious ! do you see me giving orders to 
Guy ? — or him obeying them ? ” 

“ Couldn’t your father order him back to Buenos 
Ayres ? In case of absolute necessity, I mean.” 

“ The governor, like the rest of us, is Guy’s very 
humble servant nowadays. Besides, he wouldn’t see 
the necessity. A man who wants to marry a duke’s 
daughter isn’t generally supposed to be throwing 
himself away.” 

“ He doesn’t want to marry her; and if he did, it 
would be all the more necessary for somebody to grab 
him by the coat-tails. We can’t stand still, looking 
on, while he commits suicide.” 

“ Perhaps,” suggested Wattie, “ the lady isn’t so 
bent upon his destruction as all that. I don’t know 


268 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


much about her, but from what I have heard, I 
shouldn’t say that she was exactly the sort of person 
to hanker after domesticity for its own sake. And 
although you and I may consider Guy a thousand 
times too good for her, I suppose she might look rather 
higher if she really thought of giving matrimony a 
second trial, mightn’t she ? ” 

“Not she ! Her own people shy across the street 
when they see her ; she isn’t as young as she was, and 
I fancy she must be rather hard up. Guy is well off and 
going to be better off. I’m afraid she has recalled him.” 

Wattie shrugged his shoulders. “ At that rate, 
he’ll have to take his chance, won’t he ? He cer- 
tainly wouldn’t listen for a moment to me, and I 
doubt whether he would listen to anybody else, unless 
it’s Mr. Lequesne.” 

“ Just at present Mr. Lequesne is in the mood to 
submit to anything, except a snub. Really it looks 
as if I were the only person in the world to care what 
becomes of poor Guy ! ” 

“You care a good deal, don’t you ? ” 

“ You know I do ! ” 

“ H’m ! — lucky I’m not of a jealous disposition.” 

“ Wattie,” said the girl, turning upon him in sudden 
displeasure, “ you are not to talk like that, please, 
even as a joke.” 

“ Did I mean it for a joke ? The worst of being a 
professional joker is that one’s gravest utterances are 
apt to be met with derisive laughter ...” 

“ I am not laughing,” broke in Audrey. 

“ Or misplaced indignation. As a matter of fact, 
I suspect you do care more for Guy than for me,” 


SAGACIOUS WATTIE 


269 


This had the odd effect of restoring Audrey’s 
momentarily impaired good humour. “ Let’s break 
off the engagement, then,” said she cheerfully. 
“ That will leave me free to save Guy from the 
ogress by marrying him myself. I might, you 
know.” 

“ I believe you,” Wattie returned, with a rueful 
grimace. 

“ Then you must be a donkey ! I suppose that if 
there is a living being whom nothing would ever 
persuade Guy Hilliar to marry, it’s your future wife ; 
and if there is a living being whom even her splendid 
altruism .... But we won’t pursue this painful 
subject further. Now I want my tea.” 

Walter Cleland belonged to one of those modern 
clubs which admit ladies as visitors and which are 
chiefly utilised by their members for purposes of enter- 
tainment. It was a big, imposing place, much fre- 
quented towards the close of winter afternoons, and 
when our young couple entered the room in which 
tea was served they could not at first descry a single 
disengaged table. A waiter drew their attention to 
one from which a small, swart man and a tall, fair- 
haired lady, dressed in deep mourning, had just risen. 
Audrey did not know Lord Dunridge by sight; but 
she knew his companion, whose half-closed eyes 
lighting presently upon her, opened themselves by the 
fraction of an inch and whose smiling lips were parted 
to let forth an ejaculation of pleased surprise. 

“ Oh ! — how do you do, Miss Baldwin ? Such luck 
to have run up against you ! ” 

Save that she was arrayed in unrelieved black. 


270 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


(which happened to be extremely becoming to her,) 
Lady Freda Barran did not look much like the victim 
of a recent bereavement. Nor, of course, did she 
evince the faintest embarrassment at encountering the 
daughter of a lady who had found means of letting her 
know that their acquaintance was at an end. On the 
contrary, she repeated her cry of “ Such luck ! ” and 
added, by way of explaining it, “ I’m so anxious for 
news of Guy Hilliar ! ” 

‘‘ I haven’t heard from him for a long time,” 
answered Audrey, who, though habitually truthful, 
thought evasion justifiable under the circumstances. 

“ Haven’t you really ? Nor have I, and I’m 
beginning to be quite jumpy about him. He can’t 
have been gobbled up by a tiger, can he ? ” 

“ It doesn’t seem likely in a country where there 
aren’t any tigers,” was Audrey’s dry response. 

“ Well, but there are jaguars and snakes and 
things, aren’t there ? What can be the fun of rushing 
off to those outlandish tropical places ! ” 

Wattie observed that Argentina enjoyed a tem- 
perate climate, and added sententiously that even 
England might sometimes be found too hot for 
comfort. 

“ Mr. Cleland, isn’t it ? ” asked Lady Freda, who 
had not hitherto taken any notice of him. “ How 
amusing you were that afternoon with your imita- 
tions ! Oh, and, by the way, you’re his partner ; so 
you must know what he is about.” 

“ Not very positively,” Wattie replied ; “ but to the 
best of my belief he is at sea. His father tells me that 
he is on the way home.” 


SAGACIOUS WATTIE 


271 


“ Come ! that’s reassuring. What address would 
find him on arrival ? ” 

“ I couldn’t say ; but probably the first thing he 
will do will be to look in at the office. Can I deliver 
any message to him for you ? ” 

“ I wish you would ! My love, and what does he 
mean by leaving letters unanswered ? Tell him to 
come to Green Street immediately and beg pardon.” 

Lord Dunridge, who looked cross and impatient, 
here struck in, not over civilly, with, “ I say, are you 
coming or not ? ” 

“ Half a second ! ” returned Lady Freda. “ Good- 
bye, Miss Baldwin, and don’t forget to send me a card 
when you have another show on like that last one of 
yours. Never laughed more in my life ! Thanks so 
much for your information, Mr. Cleland. Goodbye, 
both of you.” 

As soon as she had disappeared, Audrey, seating 
herself at the tea-table, exclaimed : 

“ Women of that sort ought to be publicly ducked 
in the nearest horse-pond ! ” 

“She wouldn’t mind that,” said Wattie; “she’d 
convert a humiliation into a triumph. Her hair 
grows on her head and her complexion doesn’t wash 
off. The sympathies of half the crowd and the 
homage of all the men would be hers at once.” 

“ She seems to have won yours already. What can 
there be that always attracts men in sheer, vulgar 
impudence ! ” 

“ She doesn’t attract me,” Wattie answered; “ she 
rather repels me. All the same, she’s a handsome 
woman, and there’s something rather splendid in what 


272 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


you call her impudence. The mere fact of her being 
here with Lord Dunridge — and without a hint of a 
widow’s cap either ! But perhaps the cart-wheel hat 
put that out of the question.” 

“ Widows of a few months’ standing don’t wear 
hats,” said Audrey. 

“Not even merry ones ? Probably she makes her 
hits by hats or in some kindred fashion. She does 
things that nobody else would dream of doing, and 
she does them just because she feels inclined, not for 
the sake of being stared at. Well, such as she is 
she’s a force, and Guy will have to tackle her.” 

“ Yes, thanks to you. Why must you needs tell 
her that he was coming to England ? ” 

“ Partly because she would have found out soon, 
whether I had told her or not, partly because I was 
curious to hear what she would say. You were under 
the impression that her speaking of Guy by his 
Christian name and sending him her love and all was 
meant for your benefit, weren’t you ? ” 

“ Well— wasn’t it ? ” 

“ I don’t think so. I suspect it was meant for Lord 
Dunridge. Lord Dunridge, you see, is a very much 
bigger fish than Guy, and it’s notorious that she has 
kept him from marrying up to now. Suppose her 
present object should be just the opposite ? — and 
suppose he should be laying back his ears ? ” 

“ Bright, observant boy ! So that was Lord 
Dunridge, was it ? Go on.” 

“That’s all. It’s only a guess; but he has a 
dog-in-the-mangerish look about him. Perhaps the 
best way of getting him to insist upon having what 


SAGACIOUS WATTIE 


273 


he could do very well without would be to make him 
think there was a chance of its being given to 
somebody else.” 

Audrey sipped her tea meditatively. “ I should 
like to think that you were right,” said she. “ If 
you are, Guy is safe.” 

“ Unless her first string snaps. And it may ; for 
she gives me the idea of being rather heavy-handed. 
We’re pretty powerless, whatever happens.” 

“ I’m not going to admit that yet,” Audrey 
rejoined in a determined tone of voice. 

But whether she liked to admit it or not, the case 
was hardly one for effective intervention on the part 
of friends. A man who deems himself in honour 
bound to a course for which he has small relish will 
not be deterred by representations that he is not so 
bound, nor could Guy be told anything about Lady 
Freda that he did not already know or surmise. And 
Lord Dunridge, as a possible lightning-conductor, 
looked less to be depended upon the more he was 
considered. At one time and another Audrey had 
heard a good deal about that young nobleman (for 
what do not girls hear in these unfettered days ?) 
and was aware of the standard of conduct that governs 
his like. He and his like would doubtless say that 
one does not marry Lady Freda Barrans if one can 
help it, and very often they contrive to help being 
involved in such obligations. Upon the whole, 
Audrey concluded that Lord Dunridge was as little 
likely to elbow Guy aside as Mr. Hilliar or Paul 
Lequesne were to hold him forcibly back. 

Pondering thus by the fireside in Cromwell Road, 

T 


274 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


after Wattie had escorted her thither and had taken 
leave of her, she had one of those revolts against the 
dull invincibility of circumstance to which the young 
are periodically liable. It all seemed so stupid, so 
needless, so meaningless ! Time goes ticking along 
and brings what it must bring; there is no putting 
the clock back, no doing away with results which 
spring from wholly incommensurate causes. What 
irony to pretend that we are the arbiters of our own 
fate ! On a sudden it came to her that Guy, if he 
should marry Lady Freda, would not be behaving in 
such a much more improbable, incongruous, unfore- 
seen way than she was in marrying Wattie Cleland. 
True, she was fond of Wattie and contented with her 
lot ; only she recognised at the moment that she could 
not truly be said to have chosen him or it. We don’t 
choose : things happen to us ! 

The door was thrown open, and in marched Mrs. 
Baldwin to proclaim, in a voice muffled by a thick 
gauze veil and a turned-up fur collar, what strange 
and exhilarating things had happened to her in the 
course of the past few hours. 

“ Congratulate me, Audrey ! I’ve been getting a 
little of my own back — as you would say in your 
slangy way. Talk about Nemesis and poetic justice ! 
Well, you were a very small child in the Florence days ; 
so I daresay you don’t remember that rascally Mr. 
Vigors and the trick that he played upon us all.” 

“ I can just remember Mr. Vigors,” answered 
Audrey, “ and of course I have often heard you tell 
the story of his iniquities. What about him ? ” 

“ Only that he and your specious Mr. Hilliar are 


SAGACIOUS WATTIE 


275 


identical. Actually identical; for Mr. Vigors was a 
myth, it seems — which is rather a pity for some 
reasons, though perhaps it may be as well for others. 
Imagine the audacity of the man in sitting down to a 
luncheon-table with me and flattering himself that I 
shouldn’t know those green-streaked eyes of his again 
amongst ten thousand ! Well, he is sorry now, no 
doubt, and I should think he must be sorry, too, that 
he selected me as the victim of one of his impostures 
in days gone by. If, on account of his being Guy’s 
father, I have had to let him fly from justice, instead 
of sending him into the penal servitude which he so 
richly deserves, I have at least put an end and a 
finish to him and his present fraudulent schemes. I 
don’t know when I have been so pleased ! ” 

“ Pleased that Guy’s father turns out to be fraudu- 
lent ! ” exclaimed the bewildered and dismayed 
Audrey. 

“ My dear child, don’t put words into my mouth 
that I haven’t used. No; but I think I have some 
right to be pleased with myself for having exposed 
an impostor who might never have been detected 
but for me. Help me off with my coat, and I’ll give 
you a full account of the whole business.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


AUDREY THROWS UP THE SPONGE 

“ So that disposes of Mr. Hilliar,” Mrs. Baldwin 
concluded her protracted tale by observing. “ As I 
told Paul Lequesne, it’s rather like compounding a 
felony to let him go free ; still, all things considered, 
perhaps we were justified. If he had really been 
Mr. Vigors, that would have been a different thing; 
but as there appears to be no doubt about his being 
Mr. Hilliar, we had to think of other people.” 

“ Naturally you had,” said Audrey, who had 
listened to her mother’s graphic narrative without 
interruption or comment. “ It would have been 
impossible for you to send Guy’s father to gaol.” 

“ Oh, I don’t know about impossible,” Mrs. Bald- 
win returned; “ it would have been disagreeable, of 
course, and I daresay nobody would have been much 
the better off. For my own part, I am quite satisfied 
with having prevented him from doing further mis- 
chief. I shall not breathe a word to anyone — not 
even to the Duke, though I almost feel that he ought 
to be told — and the whole affair will be buried in 
oblivion.” 

“ But can it ? ” Audrey asked. “ Won’t some 
explanation have to be given to Mr. Cleland, for 
instance ? ” 


276 


THROWING UP THE SPONGE 277 


Mrs. Baldwin jerked up her shoulders. “ Mr. 
Cleland will hear that the man has decamped, I sup- 
pose, and will draw his own conclusions. We don’t 
know what has become of him, so we can’t say.” 

“ Even so, Guy must suffer, I’m afraid. It will be 
taken for granted that his father has done something 
disgraceful.” 

“ Then, my dear,” retorted Mrs. Baldwin im- 
patiently, “ the truth will be taken for granted, that’s 
all. I’m sorry for Guy ; but really when people have 
such fathers ! ... You and Paul both talk as if Guy 
were the only person in the world worth considering. 
One doesn’t expect thanks and doesn’t get them; 
still, when one has discharged an imperative duty and 
has shown a good deal of generosity and kindly feeling 
into the bargain, it is a little hard to meet with nothing 
but black looks.” 

“ I’m not looking black,” Audrey declared; “ I’m 
only looking blue. I don’t know how Guy will take 
all this ; I foresee complications.” 

Given a nature like Guy’s and a situation such as 
that with which he would be confronted on his arrival, 
they were visible enough, those complications. They 
were, however, scarcely of a kind to impress themselves 
upon Mrs. Baldwin, who indeed could do nothing to 
minimise them. Audrey, therefore, said little more 
to her mother ; but on the following day she hastened 
betimes to seek the comprehension and sympathy 
which she counted upon finding in Chester Square. 

“ There have been some rather startling develop- 
ments since you were here last, haven’t there ? ” 
Paul began, after she had been shown into his study. 


278 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“No need now for you to make a report to me upon 
Mr. Hilliar.” 

“ And I had such a glowing one ready for you ! I 
thought him a particularly nice old gentleman who 
seemed to enjoy life and wish everybody else to enjoy 
it.” 

“You needn’t be ashamed of your diagnosis ; that’s 
the man, as I read him. Unluckily he has a kink 
somewhere in his moral equipment which baffles 
analysis and throws the whole machine out of gear. 
There was nothing to be said to him ; there’s scarcely 
anything to be said about him. I believe your mother 
and I took the only course open to us.” 

“Yes, if it had to be either flight or arrest ; and 
mother says she couldn’t have kept silence upon any 
other condition than his disappearance.” 

“ In justice to her, I don’t think she could. For 
the matter of that, I couldn’t have kept silence my- 
self ; though I don’t mean to say that it would have 
been my duty to enlighten the authorities.” 

“ Oh, one knows whom you’ll have to enlighten, 
worse luck ! ” 

Paul sighed. “ It will hit him hard, you think ? ” 

“ It must. I don’t know whether he cared a great 
deal for his father ; one hopes there wasn’t time, and 
he hasn’t, perhaps, what you could call a very affec- 
tionate nature ” — 

“Not very,” Paul agreed. 

“ Still there’s the humiliation and the loss of prestige. 
He’ll feel that. You see, he has worked such wonders 
with this shipping business, and they have all been, 
after a fashion, on their knees to him and have thought 


THROWING UP THE SPONGE 279 


he couldn’t make a mistake. Now he will have the 
air of being at least a dupe, even if he isn’t suspected 
of being an accomplice. I shouldn’t wonder if it were 
to lead to his retiring from the firm.” 

“ Neither should I ; but I doubt whether the ship- 
ping business would have interested him much longer 
in any event. He had done what there was to be 
done with it. What I personally dread — I may be 
quite mistaken, though — is his taking up the idea 
that he ought not to throw his father over. And 
Jack Hilliar is one of those men whom it’s simply 
essential to throw over.” 

“ Oh, I’ve thought of that too. But surely Mr. 
Hilliar will be undiscoverable ! ’ ’ 

“ It isn’t easy to be undiscoverable nowadays, 
even if one tries to be, and there’s no certainty that 
Mr. Hilliar will try very hard. England, to be sure, 
must remain forbidden ground for him; but I fancy 
he might be prevailed upon to accept a helping hand 
in some country with which we have no extradition 
treaty.” 

“ I see. And as the one and only thing you care 
about is to keep Guy with you, you would die rather 
than dissuade him from following his father into 
banishment.” 

“ That’s your way of putting it,” said Paul, with 
a smile. “ I shall certainly do my best to dissuade 
him, but I shan’t be able to speak quite as strongly 
as I might if I were altogether disinterested.” 

“ Then I’ll use the strong language,” Audrey 
promised. 

“ Very well ; only I don’t think he’ll listen. All 


280 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


will depend upon the aspect under which things 
may present themselves to him. On the one hand, 
there’s the appearance of retiring cravenly, which 
would go against the grain with him; on the other, 
there’s filial duty, backed up just now, I imagine, 
by a firm conviction that he would be better any- 
where than in this country.” 

“ Ah, there I’m with him ! — there’s the trouble ! 
We can’t get away from the fact that this country 
is a horribly dangerous place for him to be in. Do 
you know, I met that woman yesterday afternoon. 
She was at Wattie’s club, where we were having tea, 
and she had the face to ask for news of Guy — calling 
him ‘ Guy,’ too, if you please ! He was to be given 
her love as soon as he arrived and told to go and see 
her without loss of time.” 

“ I daresay you won’t deliver that message,” Paul 
remarked. 

“ It was intrusted to Wattie. No; I don’t suppose 
it will be delivered in those words; but he will be 
sure to walk into her web, and then goodness knows 
what words she won’t employ ! Couldn’t he be 
prevented somehow from seeing her ? ” 

“ Not by me, I’m afraid,” answered Paul ; “ but 
I can’t say that she alarms me much. I happen to 
know that he hasn’t the least desire to marry her.” 

“ It isn’t a question of what he desires ; the question 
is whether she hasn’t it in her power to make an appeal 
to him which he can’t, or won’t, resist. Wattie thinks 
she is setting her cap at Lord Dunridge, who was with 
her yesterday, and no doubt she might make the 
same sort of appeal to him ; but the difference between 


THROWING UP THE SPONGE 281 


Lord Dunridge and Guy is — well, you know as well 
as I do what it is.” 

Paul stroked his beard reflectively. Of course 
there are circumstances under which it is in a lady’s 
power to formulate an irresistible claim; but he did 
not believe that such circumstances existed in the 
particular case, and at any rate he was not prepared 
to discuss them with Audrey. He said : 

“ You don’t make your behests very clear. I am 
to keep Guy in England if I can, and I am to prevent 
him from seeing Lady Freda Barran if I can. How 
can I do both ? — or indeed either ? Do you want 
me to drag him off by main force to Stone Hall and 
detain him in custody there until further orders ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Audrey, with decision, “ that’s 
just what I do want. Take him away; let him go 
out shooting with you and lead the sort of life that 
used to satisfy you both when you were wiser than 
either of you is now. Tell him you want him badly ; 
he’ll go with you if you say that. Why should you 
be too proud to ask one small favour when so much 
depends upon it ? After all, you owe it to him to 
make some sacrifice, for it was a good deal your fault 
that he ever got into this mess. You could have 
stopped it easily enough.” 

A sensible man does not allow himself to be pro- 
voked by the normal, ingenerate obliquity of feminine 
judgments, and Paul Lequesne had more sense, as 
well as more patience, than most men. Nevertheless, 
the injustice of such an attack, coming from such a 
quarter, was too much for him, and he made the 
somewhat imprudent rejoinder of— 


282 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ I could have done no such thing, easily or other- 
wise. But you could.” 

“ I should like to know how ! ” 

“ Perhaps, in strictness, you couldn’t. Perhaps — 
only you make me doubt it sometimes — it wasn’t 
possible for you to care for him in the way that he 
cares for you, and perhaps nothing short of that would 
have availed.” 

r “In the way that he cares for me ! ” echoed Audrey, 
drawing her brows together and looking thoroughly 
displeased. “ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Exactly what I say. It’s a betrayal of confidence, 
I suppose, but for some reasons it is as well that you 
should know the truth. At all events, you will realise 
now that if he thinks this country no place for him, 
it isn’t because Lady Freda Barran is one of its 
inhabitants.” 

“ All I realise is that you are under a most absurd 
delusion. At odd times — not very often, though, 
for I always hated that sort of thing — Guy used to 
amuse himself by pretending to make love to me; 
but he never was in earnest, and I wish he hadn’t 
given you the idea that he was. I don’t think it was 
very nice of him.” 

“ He doesn’t seem to have discovered that he was 
in earnest until he heard of your engagement,” said 
Paul. “ That is what often happens to women and 
every now and then to men. He said very little to 
me upon the subject — only a few words, by way of 
accounting for his wish to go to South America — 
but what he did say was sufficient.” 


THROWING UP THE SPONGE 283 


“ Sufficient for what ? To make you believe that 
he was sincere ? ” 

Paul nodded. “ His sincerity was all the more 
unmistakable because he didn’t make a tragedy of 
it. He will recover in time; everybody recovers 
from everything in time. Only, as you remarked a 
while ago, he hasn’t a very affectionate nature; and 
for that very reason love won’t be the transient 
emotion with him that it is with nine people out of 
ten.” 

“ I could have sworn,” Audrey declared, in vexed 
accents, “ that if he ever felt a touch of that transient 
emotion in his life, it wasn’t I who had made’^him 
acquainted with it.” 

“ I am sure that it wasn’t you who intended to do 
so, my dear. His misfortune isn’t your fault. You 
can understand, though, why I don’t regard Lady 
Freda as dangerous.” 

“ No ; I don’t see that this makes her the least less 
dangerous. How tiresome it all is ! I wonder 
whether you haven’t been letting your imagination 
run away with you just a little bit. What did Guy 
say ? ” 

But when Paul began trying to render a faithful 
and conscientious report of the confession which he 
had received, she very unreasonably interrupted him 
with — 

“ Oh, never mind ! I don’t care to hear. I rather 
wish you hadn’t told me at all. There wasn’t much 
use in telling me, now that I am going to marry 
somebody else.” She caught herself up quickly. 


284 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ Of course I don’t mean that there could ever have 
been any use. Please don’t think that ! ” 

“ I don’t,” said Paul. 

“You looked as if you thought so ; I’m afraid you 
would like to think so. And nothing could be farther 
from the truth. The truth is that, fond as I am of 
Guy, I couldn’t have married him ; he isn’t my idea 
of a husband — and Wattie is. Well, I’m sorry — 
very sorry indeed and very much surprised — but it 
can’t be helped. He’ll recover, as you say.” 

She was manifestly annoyed; she was not, Paul 
thought, in the smallest degree touched, and he took 
himself to task, as soon as she had left him, for having 
yielded to the temptation of discharging an ill-advised 
and wholly ineffectual shot. If in the recesses of his 
mind there had lurked a suspicion or hope that 
Audrey, like Guy, might have been ignorant of the 
state of her own feelings, it was now quenched, once 
for all, and if he had been disposed throughout to 
think of poor Walter Cleland as a negligible factor, 
his callousness had met with merited requital. 

Not altogether unaccustomed to be viewed in the 
above light, Wattie took no offence when he was 
requested, that afternoon, in a short note from his 
betrothed to omit the daily visit which he was in the 
habit of paying her after business hours. 

“ Mother and I,” Audrey informed him, “ have 
just decided to go down to Marlow for a day or two. 
She wants to hustle' the architect, and I rather feel 
that I don’t, at the moment, want to be hustled by 
anybody; so we are taking leave of absence. By 
the early post tomorrow morning you will hear from 


THROWING UP THE SPONGE 285 


mother how right you were to be circumspect in your 
dealings with Mr. Hilliar. It’s such a long yarn, and 
she enjoys telling it so much more than I should, that 
I won’t anticipate her.” 

Circumspect in matters relating to business Wattie 
had always been, and since he was a physiognomist, 
as well as an unremitting observer, he had to some 
extent appraised Mr. Hilliar. The letter from Mrs. 
Baldwin which duly reached him the next morning 
did not, therefore, cause him any inordinate astonish- 
ment, although he at once perceived, as Audrey had 
done, that what had happened would be a heavy blow 
to Guy. Nothing could be done to soften it. Mr. 
Hilliar had fled like a defaulter, and announcement 
of that untoward circumstance must needs be made. 
It was enjoined upon Wattie by his correspondent, 
with an assumption of magnanimity at which he had 
a little laugh, that he was on no account to make 
additional revelations to anybody; but that pro- 
hibition obviously could not apply to the defaulter’s 
son, whose return was thus menaced with even worse 
trials than that which two friends of his had appre- 
hended for him. No wonder Audrey’s first impulse 
had been to retire to Weir Cottage and pull herself 
together in solitude ! It has just been said that 
Wattie was inured to cavalier treatment, and he had 
very truly said of himself that he was not of a jealous 
disposition. This, no doubt, was why he neither 
ventured to run down to Marlow uninvited nor wrote 
to express the sympathy that he felt. Like the wise, 
patient, longsuffering little man that he was, he 
waited, without breaking silence, for the summons 


286 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


which did not reach him until four days later; but 
when, in obedience to it, he hastened to Cromwell 
Road, Audrey’s pale, drawn and unsmiling face gave 
him a shock for which he had not been prepared. 

“ I say,” he exelaimed involuntarily, “ I didn’t 
think it would hurt you so mueh as this.” 

“ It doesn’t,” she answered, in a rather hard, dry 
voice. “ Of course I’m concerned on Guy’s account; 
but I haven’t been thinking about him — not in that 
way, at least — all these days and nights; I’ve been 
thinking about you, Wattie.” 

“ That’s an unusual honour for me,” remarked the 
young man. But his laugh was a forced one, for he 
knew on the instant what was coming. 

“ Yes, it is,” Audrey assented ; “ much too unusual. 
If I had thought a little more about you and a little 
less about myself when you asked me to marry you, 
perhaps I shouldn’t have been brought to this despic- 
able pass. It’s no excuse that I never pretended to be 
in love with you ; you were willing to take me as I 
was, and I was willing to be taken. Now, at the last 
moment, I have got to say that I can’t keep my word. 
It isn’t — if you can understand — that I don’t want 
to keep it or that I’m not ashamed of myself and 
disgusted with myself for breaking it; it’s just that 
the thing has become impossible.” 

She looked him full in the face and set her lips 
tightly (he noticed that they quivered a little, never- 
theless), as if bracing herself against protest or re- 
proach; but he uttered neither. He only asked 
quite quietly : 

“ Any special reason for that ? ” 


THROWING UP THE SPONGE 287 


“Yes,” she replied, without flinching, “ and as 
you have a right to hear the truth, I had better come 
out with it at once. I know now that I love some- 
body else, that’s all.” 

He appreciated that mercifully uncompromising 
statement ; for the harshness of her words was atoned 
for by her woebegone face, and he saw that she was 
giving herself as much pain as she was giving him. 

“ Well,” said he, omitting a superfluous question, 
‘‘ it’s a good thing that you found out in time. I 
can guess what opened your eyes. One never really 
knows how much one cares for people until, for some 
reason or other, one has to be awfully sorry for them, 
and this wretched business about his father . . .” 

“ It wasn’t only that,” Audrey interrupted ; “it 
was something that Mr. Lequesne said. At first I 
didn’t see why it should make any difference; only 
after I had got home and began to think ”... Her 
voice faltered for an instant; but she cleared it and 
resumed : “ I felt I must have time ; so I persuaded 
mother to come down to Marlow, and there I fought 
the thing out all by myself. Or rather, I didn’t fight ; 
I threw up the sponge. One may marry without 
being in love ; I am sure hundreds and thousands of 
women do and never regret it ; but to marry one man 
when you love another — it seems to me almost 
wicked ! ” 

“ Quite wicked, I should call it. I suppose I 
mustn’t ask what it was that Mr. Lequesne said ? ” 

“You may ask anything. He told me that Guy 
loved me.” 

“ Oh, come ! — that’s better. I was afraid he might 


288 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


have told you something very different. Guy is a 
queer chap in some ways, and it didn’t occur to me — 
though I might have known if I hadn’t been a bit off 
my head at the time. ... It has been a misunder- 
standing all round. Happily, you and he won’t 
misunderstand one another any more.” 

“ But Wattie,” exclaimed the girl, in unfeigned 
distress, “ I can’t bear you to take it like this ! You 
must think me a perfect beast, and I do wish you 
would say so ! ” 

“ I would with pleasure if that was what I thought ; 
but of course it isn’t. You made a mistake for which 
there was every imaginable excuse, and now that you 
have discovered your mistake you have been abso- 
lutely straight and honest with me, as you always 
are. You couldn’t do more, and lots of girls, I expect, 
would have contrived to do less.” 

Audrey shook her head despairingly. “ If I could 
but think that you didn’t very much mind ! You 
oughtn’t to mind, for you aren’t losing anything worth 
having ; but what’s the use of saying that ? It’s 
wonderful and beautiful of you to behave so well; 
only — I can’t help knowing that you did care for 
me.” 

“ Why use the past tense ? I’ve even the vanity to 
believe that you still care a little for me.” 

“ Indeed I do, Wattie ! ” she cried, bursting into 
tears. “ I care more for you, I think, than for any- 
body in the world, except — except the one. Yet at 
the eleventh hour I must jilt you and disappoint you 
and make you look ridiculous. All I can say is that 
I must ! — there’s nothing else to be done ! ” 


THROWING UP THE SPONGE 289 


It was then that Wattie Cleland showed how extra- 
ordinarily well he had it in him to behave. 

“ Look here, Audrey,” said he; “ weVe been jolly 
prosaic from the start, you and I, and we shall spoil 
the symmetry of the whole affair if we wind up with 
heroics and hysterics. I’ll admit that I’m a little 
disappointed ; but don’t run away with the idea that 
I’m going to be inconsolable. As a matter of fact, 
I may tell you now that I’ve had my doubts of late 
as to whether this marriage business can be run 
successfully on prosaic lines, and, unless I’m much 
mistaken, so have you.” 

“No; never until a few days ago ! ” 

“ Oh, you were beginning to doubt ; you were 
growing more and more defiantly friendly. Now, I 
hope, you’ll be my best friend without any need for 
defiance. My notion is that Providence meant us 
to be friends, not husband and wife ; so let’s be thank- 
ful that we have been saved from flying in the face of 
Providence. Don’t worry about me; I shall be all 
right.” 

Did she believe him ? At any rate, she could not 
quarrel with an attitude which excluded depreca- 
tion. She had played him false and he had 
accepted his dismissal with perfect good humour : 
what remained to be said ? Only to bind him to 
secrecy respecting the cause of his dismissal; and 
this, as may be supposed, he readily promised to 
observe. 

“ Because,” Audrey explained, “ there’s nothing 
to prove that Guy hasn’t changed. Mr. Lequesne 
said he would recover, and indeed he went out to 
u 


290 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


Argentina for the express purpose of recovering; so 
it may very well be that you will have an old maid for 
your best friend, after all.” 

“ Oh, I don’t anticipate such a lame conclusion as 
that,” answered Wattie, laughing. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE IRONY OF COINCIDENCE 

Nothing was more glaringly apparent to Guy 
Hilliar than the path marked out for him by duty 
and honour — not even his extreme disinclination to 
tread it. He knew, indeed, that some men are lax 
in their notions of what they owe to women whom 
they have loved, or professed to love, and whom they 
love no longer ; but such men, by his way of thinking, 
are simply cads, and he could no more take his cue 
from them than he could (for instance) advise or allow 
those who trusted him to invest money in a bogus 
company. However reprehensible it may be to make 
love to a married woman, it is infinitely worse to 
shrink from marrying her, should she, by ill luck, 
become a widow. At the same time, he did not con- 
sider the fulfilment of acknowledged obligations so 
urgent as to necessitate a voyage to England by the 
quickest and most direct route. Pending his arrival, 
Mr. Cleland would not, he knew, commit the firm to 
any rash enterprise, while Lady Freda, for all her 
disdain of conventional usages, could scarcely con- 
tract a fresh alliance before the grass was green upon 
her late husband’s grave. Accordingly, he took passage 
in a twelve-knot Italian steamer which, touching at 
various ports, was only due to reach Genoa towards 
U 2 291 


292 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


the last days of the year ; for he was not without hope 
of thus evading an obligation which did not rank as 
a duty. Audrey’s wedding, according to Paul, was 
to be solemnised “ after Christmas.” That might 
perhaps mean immediately after Christmas, and the 
chance of turning up a few days too late to be present 
at the ceremony seemed worth taking. 

Not, to be sure, that it really signified. He meant 
to renew as soon as possible that long-standing friend- 
ship and camaraderie with Audrey which she, for her 
part, would certainly wish to maintain; he did not 
mean to cherish a hopeless passion a day longer than 
could be helped. It is not over hopeless affairs that a 
man can make himself miserable ; when hopes are dead, 
the only thing to be done with them is to bury them, 
just as the only thing to be done with an unalluring 
future is to clothe it with such measure of glamour 
as can be conjured up. Guy did not forget that there 
had been times when he had been very nearly, if not 
quite, in love with Lady Freda; he tried hard to 
believe that he was still fond of her ; he was sure that 
she was fond of him, and he had always been of opinion 
that she was at heart a better woman than she cared 
to appear. Why should they not be happy enough 
together, as happiness goes ? 

During the long, leisurely transit across the Atlantic 
he strove — with no very brilliant success, it must be 
owned — to make the best of things after the above 
fashion, sustained, upon the whole, less by illusion 
than by that resolve not to accept defeat which had 
stood him in good stead from his childhood. He had 
need of all his courage and optimism, for the outlook 


THE IRONY OF COINCIDENCE 293 


was sufficiently sombre. Upon one point, at any 
rate, illusion must be abandoned. That his father 
was what Mr. Jackson in an unguarded moment had 
pronounced him to be was only too evident, and what 
was to become of his father was a somewhat anxious 
question. 

“For that matter,” Guy mused, “ I wonder what 
is going to become of me ! One doesn’t return from 
an adventure like this with one’s head quite as high 
as when one set out, and if the firm ceases to believe 
in me, they may not have much further use for me — 
nor I for them. Can’t afford to quarrel with my bread 
and butter, though; I must stick to it until I can 
find something else. Especially as I shall soon be 
married to a rather expensive wife ! ” 

Reminiscences of Lady Freda’s extravagance and 
her insatiable appetite for money gave him a cold 
shudder. He saw her — could not help seeing her — 
making unabashed demands upon Paul, and he felt 
that, should her requests be granted, as they probably 
would be, his humiliation would be almost greater 
than he could bear. Weighed down by these two 
burdens, his genial, happy-go-lucky father and his 
spendthrift wife, he would have to prove himself a 
strong swimmer indeed to keep his head above water. 

The monotony of an ocean voyage under steam and 
under modern conditions may be soothing to worn- 
out invalids, but has little charm for an active, restless 
young man who is provided with nothing pleasant 
to think about. Guy wearied of it long before Christ- 
mas Eve, when the cloud-capped rock of Gibraltar 
was sighted. It was with clouds, rain, a blustering 


294 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


chill Levanter and grey, tumbling waves that the 
Mediterranean received him, the weather continuing 
stormy until the steamer dropped anchor, three days 
later, at Messina, where he made up his mind to dis- 
embark. It came into his head that a letter from 
home would help him to regulate his next movements 
and that if a certain celebration should be imminent, 
he might just as well know what to expect, or perhaps 
avoid. As soon, therefore, as he had been liberated 
from the exhaustive investigations of the Italian 
custom-house officers, he sent off a telegram in which 
Paul was begged to write to Naples. Another 
despatch to Wattie Cleland announced that he 
expected to reach England ere long, but named 
neither date nor provisional address. All things 
considered, he was not so very anxious to hear from 
Wattie. 

It was now too late to carry out his original inten- 
tion of pushing on to Palermo ; so he made his way 
through the dusk of a wet and cheerless afternoon 
towards the Hotel Trinacria, whither he had given 
orders that his luggage should be conveyed. The 
day being Sunday and a festa, (though the conditions 
were suggestive of anything rather than festivity,) 
the shops had closed early and the streets were almost 
deserted. The few draggled and shivering pedestrians 
whom Guy met had the air of hurrying for shelter, 
and he strode forward to imitate them. An unmis- 
takably English traveller, clad in a long, heavy coat, 
was chatting with the hall-porter as he entered the 
hotel. 

“ Brutto tempo ! ” Guy heard him say. Then 


THE IRONY OF COINCIDENCE 295 


followed a laugh, the sound of which caused him 
to stare at the stranger, whose back was turned to- 
wards him. The latter, glancing round, started also ; 
after which there were simultaneous ejaculations of 
“ Hullo ! ” succeeded by a pause just long enough 
to make Guy aware that his father was not only sur- 
prised but a little perturbed by the sight of him. But 
with Mr. Hilliar perturbation was ever the most 
fugitive of emotions. He laughed again, clapped his 
son on the shoulder and cried gaily : 

“ Les beaux esprits se rencontrent ! You come, I 
suppose, from the Navigazione Generale steamer which 
arrived today. If your having selected that line, of 
all others, and landing here, instead of going on to 
Genoa, isn’t the result of telepathy, there’s no such 
thing ! Probably there is no such thing, and this is 
only a sample of the irony of coincidence. The more 
so as — now that I come to think of it — I shouldn’t, 
at the time when you took your passage, have exerted 
telepathic force to draw you to Sicily.” 

“ But what force,” asked the bewildered Guy, 
“ has brought you here ? ” 

Mr. Hilliar depressed the corners of his mouth and 
jerked up his eyebrows. “ Oh, force majeure ! I’m 
leaving Europe by request. A vessel of the same 
line that restored you to this hemisphere takes me 
back to the other tomorrow. Strange that we 
should meet once more on the summit of the water- 
shed, so to speak ! I should like to call it Providential, 
only I don’t really believe . . . Still, nobody knows 
how much or how little he believes, as Lequesne might 
say, and I’ve always had a lingering suspicion that 


296 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


we’re not free agents. Be that as it may, you’re the 
last person I thought of encountering at Messina.” 

Guy could make nothing of these disjointed 
utterances, save that they plainly pointed to some 
sudden stroke of adverse fortune. “ I don’t know 
what you’re talking about,” said he apprehensively. 
“ Has anything happened ? ” 

“ A most portentous thing,” his father replied, 
taking him by the arm and leading him into the ad- 
joining smoking-room, which was untenanted. “ Sit 
down and have a drink. You won’t ? Well, my 
dear fellow, I won’t keep you any longer in suspense. 
What has happened, to put it in a nutshell, is that 
the whole house of cards has come down with a run. 
Oh, not your house; you’ll suffer no injury; rather 
the contrary, I fancy. I’m speaking of my own 
flimsy structure.” 

“ The Chaco Development Company ? ” 

“ That amongst other cards ; but only as an item 
in the general collapse. Nobody but myself to 
blame. At my age, and after all I’ve been through, 
I ought to know better than to take avoidable risks ; 
but that’s a lesson I shall never learn. Risks, after 
all, are the salt of life; one incurs them largely for 
their own sake. There’s this to be said, that the risk 
of being brought face to face with Mrs. Baldwin sooner 
or later could hardly have been avoided. Still I 
needn’t have accepted young Cleland’s invitation to 
meet her at such very close quarters in a restaurant.” 

“ Why shouldn’t you have met Mrs. Baldwin ? ” 
Guy asked. 

“ Only because she spotted me like a shot. Women, 


THE IRONY OF COINCIDENCE 297 


I take it, never forget or forgive a man who has once 
made them look foolish, and it might have struck 
nie — though it didn’t — ^that she would have a pretty 
vivid recollection of the agreeable Mr. Vigors who 
skipped from Florence some seventeen or eighteen 
years ago, after getting her to receive his guests at a 
ball for which he omitted to pay.” 

It was as if Guy had been stabbed, without warning 
or provocation, by some friendly hand. He looked, 
in questioning, half-incredulous protest, at his father, 
who met his gaze with a steady smile and a nod. 

“ Yes,” Mr Hilliar tranquilly continued, “ I was 
the Florentine Vigors of elusive memory. The real 
Vigors, I should mention, was lying six feet deep in 
the Malaga cemetery, and I’m sure he wouldn’t have 
grudged me the use of his name, for he hadn’t made it 
a highly honoured one. At that time I had many 
good reasons for wishing to pass as defunct; so I 
effected an exchange of nomenclature which harmed 
nobody — ^unless, indeed, you like to say that it has 
harmed you. But that I must take leave to doubt. 
What you would have developed into if I had sur- 
vived my Spanish trip and returned to Arcachon to 
pick you up who can tell ? It’s certain that you 
wouldn’t have been educated at Eton and Oxford. 
No, Guy, I don’t ask your pardon for having died; 
it was in my resurrection that I showed some lack 
of good taste and good feeling, perhaps. Mon Dieu ! 
que voulez-vous? I never could resist adventures, 
and it was an adventure, my swooping down upon you 
and the Clelands, with my Chaco Development Com- 
pany and all. An adventure which was within an 


298 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


ace of turning out a success too ! Or would you have 
insisted upon wrecking the Company, I wonder ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” Guy replied. “ I should have 
had to tell the truth, I suppose.” 

His voice was rather hoarse ; his troubled, puzzled 
eyes still scrutinised that blandly composed father 
of his, who apparently set no store at all by the truth. 
“You haven’t told me yet what Mrs. Baldwin did or 
why you are here,” he observed presently. 

“ She threatened to give information to the police, 
and I’m here because I’m a fugitive,” was Mr. Hilliar’s 
smiling reply. “ From the moment that she recognised 
me there was nothing for it but flight. Whether I 
could be arrested or not in Brazil — I’m bound for 
Brazil, by the way — I don’t know ; but no proceedings 
will be taken. All parties concerned are glad enough 
to have got rid of me for ever and a day. I make no 
exception of you.” 

“ You haven’t a right to include me — yet,” said Guy 
quickly. “ I don’t feel as if I would allow this ; but 
I don’t really understand. ... I must hear more.” 

“ The more you hear of my history, my dear boy, 
the less you’ll like it. That’s rather a reason for 
putting you in possession of details, though. I’m not 
sorry that we have met. In fact, I’m very glad ; for 
I wanted to see you once again, if only to free you 
from conventional compunctions. Lequesne said 
something about the possibility of your having com- 
punctions — and precious nearly made me lose my 
temper, which was more than Mrs. Baldwin could 
achieve. I say, have you taken a private sitting- 
room here ? ” 


THE IRONY OF COINCIDENCE 299 


“ No ; but I’ll order one if you wish.” 

“ Do, like a good fellow. We’ll dine together and 
have a bottle of champagne and as decent a meal as 
the hotel can produce. Then you shall be told every- 
thing that you can want to know, besides some things 
which it’s best that you should know ” 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE DILEMMA 

It was in a spacious and lofty room, made cheerful 
by electrie light and a crackling wood fire, that the 
father and son sat down to dinner. Mr. Hilliar had 
donned evening dress — a ceremony which Guy had 
neglected — and the handsome, distinguished-looking 
old gentleman commanded the evident respect and 
admiration of the waiters in attendance. 

While they were hovering round he could not very 
well broach delicate subjects, for, although he 
addressed them in Italian, which he spoke fluently, 
it was quite probable that they had a smattering of 
English; but what he could do, and did very well 
indeed, was to chat about generalities with an ease 
and apparent unconcern the contagion of which 
gradually gained his less serene companion. Guy 
was made to recount his experiences in the Chaco 
country, which were listened to and commented 
upon with interest; something was also said about 
Liverpool and London, the peeuliar misty charm 
of the English autumn, the delightful situation of 
Mrs. Baldwin’s riverside dwelling. The champagne 
bottle passed to and fro until a second had to be 
ordered ; the ceaseless patter of rain upon the window- 
panes gave an added sense of comfort^and snugness 
3Q0 


THE DILEMMA 


801 


to the two diners which one of them visibly appreci- 
ated, while the other, a little off his balance, a little 
bewildered by the blithe unreality of the whole scene, 
began to ask himself whether things had, after all, 
come to so desperate a pass as he had been led to 
believe. When the waiters had finally withdrawn, 
Mr. Hilliar moved to the fire, deposited his coffee- 
cup on the mantelpiece, lighted a cigar and observed, 
without any change of voice or manner : 

“ You were saying that you didn’t understand and 
that you wished to hear more. Something you 
must have heard, though, in the old days from the 
Eastwoods about your scapegrace of a father. At 
least, I presume so.” 

Guy shook his head. 

“ No ? Ah, well ! they were excellent, innocent 
sort of people, and I daresay they didn’t like to tell 
you that, as a husband and a father, I left a good 
deal to be desired. I was very seldom at home — 
always off on some mysterious business, as to the 
nature of which your poor mother made no inquiries. 
Didn’t dare, I suppose. But you’ll remember that 
I used to turn up from time to time with my pockets 
full.” 

“ I remember,” said Guy, “ what fun it was for 
me when you did. I remember our bathing in the 
sea together and your giving me elementary instruc- 
tion in boxing on the sands. We were great 
pals.” 

Mr. Hilliar looked extraordinarily pleased. “ We 
were,” he answered, “ we were ” — and was silent 
for a moment, staring at the glowing logs 


302 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ That mysterious business of mine,” he resumed 
— “ what do you suppose it was ? Nothing more 
nor less than the plucking of pigeons. To be more 
specific, it was preying upon the best society in divers 
cities and watering-places under sundry disguises. 
It was winning money at cards sometimes, it was 
getting the merest acquaintances to lend me money 
when I lost, it was living on the fat of the land and 
taking the key of the fields as soon as the game began 
to show symptoms of exhaustion.” He threw up 
his hands and laughed aloud. “ The pigeons that 
there are in the world, asking to be plucked ! The 
childlike alacrity with which people, old and young, 
will lend themselves to the most barefaced impostures 
and swallow the most egregious inventions ! I 
recollect an old General at Malta — highly connected, 
no fool, priding himself upon being a man of the 
world — who was prepared to swear that I was his 
second cousin, although Heaven only knows — I 
didn’t — whether he had any second cousins or not. 
He pressed a couple of hundred upon me and was 
almost affronted when I declined to take more than 
half. There were plenty like him; I don’t doubt 
that there are plenty today, and will be in saecula 
saeculorum. The Duke of Branksome in Florence, 
for instance. I happened to be aware that Vigors 
was distantly related to his family; so I marched 
up to him, introduced myself and was taken for 
granted there and then. That, as you may imagine, 
was quite sufficient for Mrs. Baldwin and others. 
With audacity and nerve, the ancient trick of persona- 
tion can be played over and over again. I could 


THE DILEMMA 


303 


tell you of tours de force that would amaze you ; but 
I should despair of ever conveying any idea to an 
honest fellow like you of what sport it all was.” 

“ I was brought up with the idea that sport and 
swindling are opposites,” Guy was constrained to 
say, though he felt something of a prig for saying 
it 

“ Just so. As one result of my swindling pro- 
pensities, you were brought up in the most honourable 
sporting traditions. That’s as it should be, and 
I’m not asking you to sympathise with those old 
escapades, of which, by the way, the Vigors coup 
was the last. I may boast that since then I’ve run 
fairly straight — straight in the commercial interpre- 
tation of the word. Yet what is commerce, what is 
statesmanship, what is diplomacy, what are the 
practices of law and war but an eternal struggle to 
worst somebody else ? By fair means, you’ll say. 
Well, not always; but anyhow they aren’t Christian 
means, and the perpetual game of beggar-my-neigh- 
bour which constitutes life can’t be brought into line 
with the acknowledged duty of loving your neighbour 
as yourself. Practical morality, in short, is a purely 
conventional affair. One man is rewarded with a 
peerage and a pension, while another, for doing what 
amounts to pretty much the same thing in a different 
field of activity, gets a term of hard labour. So 
here I stand at the end of all, the unabashed, un- 
complaining outcast that you see me. I’ve done some 

queer things in my day; but ” He paused and 

broke into a short, gleeful laugh — “ hang it I I did 
them uncommonly well.” 


304 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


It was hard to withhold from him a little of the 
sympathy which he disclaimed. He did not talk 
like a rascal, much less did he look like one. He 
must, of course, be accounted responsible for the 
eccentricities of his conscience ; but must he be 
blamed or despised for having a conscience of that 
sort ? 

“ Look here, father,” said Guy, getting up and 
joining him by the fireside, “ you aren’t going to be 
cast out by me, at any rate, and I don’t see why you 
should be cast out at all. These things happened a 
great many years ago; I don’t believe Mrs. Baldwin 
can really want to do us all an unkind turn by raking 
them up. Even if she does, and if England is made 
impossible for you, you can’t be allowed to vanish 
into space. I shall stand by you, happen what 
may.” 

“ You’ll do no such thing ! ” returned Mr. Hilliar. 
“ I’m the most amiable man in the world, but, as I 
told you before dinner, I came very near losing my 
temper with Lequesne when he suggested that you 
might refuse to let me sink below the surface. Why, 
you young idiot, you’re bound to let me sink! All 
you can do is to commit suicide by sinking with me, 
which would not only be useless but devilish un- 
grateful to the man who has been your real father all 
these years. You forget him.” 

“ No,” answered Guy, “ I don’t forget him ; I shall 
never do that. But I’m not sure that he will still 
wish — after what has happened . . .” 

“ So you’re afraid he may be ashamed of your 
father’s son, eh ? Now, I have a much greater 


THE DILEMMA 


305 


admiration for Lequesne’s writings than I have for 
him as a man ; in some respects he seems to me to be 
fantastic and opinionated — in short, rather an ass. 
But I have never thought so meanly of him as you 
seem inclined to do. No, my dear boy; take my 
word for it, he won’t be ashamed of you, he’ll be as 
proud of you as he has good reason to be. And he’ll 
be only too glad and thankful to have you back on 
the old terms, which I disturbed, though I never 
meant to disturb them.” 

“ Ah ! that’s what you take for the important 
point.” 

“ It is the important point. Lequesne has always 
maintained that you would have to choose between 
us. Absurd enough at first, but as plain as a pike- 
staff now. All very fine for you to talk of standing 
by me, my dear Guy, but you simply can’t; nor 
can Lequesne and Mrs. Baldwin grant me a bill of 
indemnity to please you. There’s more against me 
than charges of false pretences ; there’s an unfortunate 
matter of a cheque which I signed with a name that 
wasn’t my own.” . . . 

For the first time Mr. Hilliar had the grace to look 
a little out of countenance; but his aplomb only 
failed him for a moment, and he concluded briskly, 
“No choice for a detected forger but to drop out of 
sight and hearing; you’ll admit that, perhaps.” 

It had to be admitted. Guy could find nothing to 
say, and his father went on : 

“ Don’t distress yourself about me ; I shan’t starve. 
I’ve got a little money, and I have friends at Rio who 
will put me on to a job of some sort. I’m not as young 

X 


306 PAUL’S PARAGON 

as I was, it’s true, but I don’t feel at all too old for a 
fresh start.” 

He was vigorous and sharp-witted enough to make 
one, no doubt, and this last avowal of his (so con- 
clusive as to the question of rehabilitation !) simplified 
possibilities for him after an almost enviable fashion. 
Thinking of his own compromised outlook, Guy 
exclaimed half -involuntarily : 

“ I wish I could go with you and make a fresh start 
too ! ” 

“ I wish you could, and I’m glad you can’t,” 
answered hi i father, smiling. “ Sentiment, after 
what I’ve been telling you, might sound out of place, 
so I won’t indulge in any; but since we shall never 
meet again after this. I’ll allow myself to tell you, as 
a sort of epilogue to the rest, that I shall think of 
you daily for the rest of my life and remember you 
always in my prayers. Oh, the circumstance that 
I say them isn’t so quaint and incongruous as you 
think. We all commit sins — even the Holy Father 
himself, not to mention the Archbishop of Canter- 
bury and the Chief of the Salvation Army and Paul 
Lequesne. Miserable sinners we are and shall con- 
tinue to be while we draw breath; so why should 
I be above or beneath asking for mercies that I don’t 
deserve ? But I was saying that you have a dis- 
reputable father who couldn’t care more for you if 
he were a model of virtue; which is one reason for 
his not being more dejected. Because for you this 
explosion is nothing but a blessing. It hoists you 
out of turbid waters — waters which threatened to 
become turbid, anyhow — and deposits you upon the 


THE DILEMMA 


307 


safe dry land where you were before. You won’t 
find it too dry; you’ll carve out a career for your- 
self, I’m sure; you’ll have a liberal paymaster at 
your back, and one of these days, I hope, you’ll make 
a satisfactory marriage.” 

It would have been cruel to point out to him what 
he did not appear to realise, that he had rendered these 
agreeable prophecies somewhat difficult of fulfil- 
ment. Guy limited himself to remarking that up- 
heavals do not, as a rule, tend to bring about restora- 
tions. Something — some half-conscious touch of 
fellow-feeling, perhaps, and impulse to repay confidence 
with confidence — prompted him to add : 

“ Whatever else I may do, I shall not make a satis- 
factory marriage. It’s on the cards that I shall have 
to make an unsatisfactory one, though.” 

“ The deuce it is ! ” ejaculated Mr. Hilliar, as much 
dismayed as the most upright and punctilious parent 
could have been. “ Who is the woman ? Not some 
confounded chorus girl, I hope ? ” 

He learned with relief that the undesirable lady 
was of ducal birth; he was also glad to hear, in 
response to direct interrogations, how flimsy her 
claims were. Guy told him all about her and about 
Audrey also. Somehow it was easy to tell things to 
this elderly scapegrace which would have been less 
easily confessed, for instance, to Paul Lequesne, 
and perhaps Mr. Hilliar was in some ways a more 
capable adviser than Paul. 

“ Bless your life, boy, she hasn’t the shadow of a 
case ! ” was his verdict. “ A harmless little affair 
like that commits nobody to anything, and you may 

X 2 


308 


PAULAS PARAGON 


depend upon it that you weren’t her ladyship’s only 
admirer either. I shouldn’t give her another thought 
if I were in your place. And, if I were in your place, 
I shouldn’t give up the girl I loved without a struggle, 
let me tell you. Cut out the ridiculous little man to 
whom she has engaged herself ; he oughtn’t to take 
such a great deal of beating. Go in and win while 
there’s still time.” 

“As a matter of fact, there isn’t time,” answered 
Guy. “ Not that I should try to cut out a friend of 
mine if there were, or that I should have the remotest 
chance of succeeding if I did.” 

“ Ah, these chivalrous traditions, which say so little 
to the degenerate likes of me ! ” 

“ They don’t come into play, as it happens. Audrey 
has the kind of sincere affection for me which can be 
guaranteed as absolutely non-inflammable. I only 
mentioned her and Lady Freda so that you might 
understand why I would rather be going to Brazil 
than to England.” 

He refrained from adducing other reasons for his 
deep reluctance to return home. The inevitable 
humiliation of that return; the patronising com- 
passion of Mrs. Baldwin; the not improbable sever- 
ance of his connection with the Clelands, which it 
would be incumbent upon him at least to propose; 
the impossibility (for as such he now regarded it) of 
reverting to old relations with Paul — was it likely 
that his father could be made to comprehend all 
these things, even supposing that they could be plainly 
and brutally set forth ? He spoke despondently, 
instead, of what he still felt to be his obligations 


THE DILEMMA 


309 


towards Lady Freda. He could not at all agree that 
they were imaginary ; he would unquestionably have 
to marry her if she should wish it, and his conviction 
was that she would wish it. There was, to be sure, 
the conceivable contingency, to which he did not 
allude, of unwillingness on her part to espouse a 
forger’s son ; but upon that he could pin little hope. 
Lady Freda had ever a superb disdain — it was about 
the only trace of aristocratic lineage discernible in 
her — for such social usages and prejudices as might 
stand between her and the gratification of a 
caprice. 

But whilst he was talking, light broke in upon 
Mr. Hilliar, who was no novice at thought-reading 
and who did at last begin very well to comprehend 
the ordeal that awaited a proud and sensitive young 
man. 

“ How about staying abroad a little longer ? ” 
he suggested. “ Why hurry home if you’d rather 
not ? You aren’t at anybody’s beck and call.” 

Guy made a gesture of negation. “ No use shiver- 
ing on the brink ; one must either face things or bolt. 
All I mean is that I wish I could bolt. I should like 
to do what you’re doing — just close the chapter finally 
and open a brand new one.” 

“ Come along, then,” said his father suddenly. 

“ You don’t mean that ! ” faltered Guy, his breath 
taken away by this abrupt and unforeseen change of 
front. 

“By Jove, I do, though!” Mr. Hilliar returned, 
eager and excited in a moment. “ When all’s said 
and done, why not ? It isn’t as if you were wanting 


310 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


in brains or enterprise. You’ll soon make your 
fortune over there ; fortunes are waiting to be made 
in Brazil, I can tell you. Then in a year or two, if 
you care to go back to the old country, you’ll be able 
to snap your fingers at Lequesne and the rest of them. 
I say nothing about myself; I’ve forfeited all title 
to consideration, I acknowledge. Still I should love 
to have you with me and I should glory in helping 
to make you independent.” 

He expatiated upon his theme, waxing dithyrambic, 
as his habit was when seized by some novel inspiration. 
Of his affection for his son and desire to do the best 
for him there is no need to doubt ; he perceived that 
Lady Freda Barran might, however absurdly, be a real 
danger; he recognised the charm — the legitimate 
charm — of acquired independence; he was, more- 
over, without knowing it, inwardly jealous and dis- 
trustful of Paul Lequesne, whose refusal to be bound 
by any pledges he had not forgotten. But what 
moved him to enthusiasm more than anything else 
was, beyond question, his thirst for adventure, his 
innate, incorrigible levity 

It was at an open door that he knocked ; yet Guy, 
either in spite or in consequence of strong temptation, 
could not see his way to dispense with a flying visit to 
England as a preliminary to more definite flight. 

“ I don’t think I can sail with you tomorrow,” 
he said; “but I’ll follow you to Rio by the first 
steamer. If I spend a couple of days in England, it’s 
as much as I shall.” 

At this Mr. Hilliar’s face fell. “ Impossible, my 
dear fellow ! Tell a woman that you propose to 


THE DILEMMA 


311 


desert her and she’ll hang on to you with might and 
main, whether she loves or hates you. The one thing 
that you mustn’t dream of doing is to see her lady- 
ship.” 

“ I’m not going to see her,” Guy answered ; “ what 
would be the good ? I wasn’t thinking of 
her.” 

“ Of Lequesne, then ? And what good do you 
expect to do by seeing Lequesne ? Naturally, he’ll 
move heaven and earth to keep you when once he 
has got you — and he’ll do it too ! Why, it’s of the 
essence of the whole scheme that nobody shall know 
what has become of you ! ” 

“ But you yourself exhorted me just now not to be 
ungrateful.” 

“Well, I don’t. deny that Lequesne will have the 
right to call you ungrateful; one can’t make an 
omelette without breaking eggs. He won’t think 
you any the less so for hearing your intention from 
your own lips. Besides, if you let him know what 
your plan is, you give me away.” 

“ Not necessarily.” 

“ Yes, necessarily : otherwise you won’t have a 
leg to stand upon. You’re free, Guy; I’ve nothing 
to say against your going back to England. Perhaps 
you had better go, and perhaps you ought to go. 
Only don’t delude yourself with such a preposterous 
idea as that it’s open to you to take England on your 
way to Brazil.” 

The argument which followed was scarcely to be 
called an argument, seeing that the elder man had all 
the best of it and that the idea which he combated 


312 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


was so obviously a preposterous one. Guy at length 
was fain to admit as much. His dilemma, stripped 
bare, stared him in the face, awaiting the decision 
which he still shrank from pronouncing. As between 
his father and Paul — since it had come to that ex- 
tremity — he was, and had to be, for Paul ; yet — was 
it quite certain that Paul wanted him ? Could he 
find it in his heart to abandon this dishonoured, 
lovable, forlorn father of his, who no longer affected 
indifference to abandonment ? 

“ I can’t make up my mind ! ” he owned at last. 
“ I’m sorry, but really I can’t ! Let me sleep upon it. 
It’s too late to take my passage tonight, and by 
breakfast time tomorrow I shall know what I’m 
going to do.” 

“So be it ! ” answered Mr. Hilliar cheerfully. 
“ And bear this in mind, if it will help you at all : 
you’ll please me best by pleasing yourself.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE SOLUTION 

To sleep upon a hard problem, and thus bring a 
refreshed brain to bear upon its complexities, is no 
bad plan, provided that sleep is obtainable ; but the 
difficulty of those confronted with hard problems is 
apt to be the refusal of a tired brain to cease working, 
and Guy had never felt more hopelessly wide awake 
in his life than he did after he had been dismissed 
to the solitude of his vast, chilly bedroom. Solitude, 
to be sure, helped him a little, though his father’s 
parting admonition gave him no help at all. Please 
himself ! — that, in either event, he would certainly 
be unable to do. Well, then, setting himself aside, 
whose pleasure ought to make the scale drop ? His 
father’s, perhaps, since his father would really be 
pleased by the carrying out of this plan for their 
joint eclipse, while it was at least doubtful whether 
Paul desired the resumption of conditions which, for 
that matter, probably could not be resumed. But 
although Guy repeated this to himself with the 
persistency of incomplete conviction, he did not in 
his heart believe that Paul, of all people, would 
show him the cold shoulder because he was under a 
cloud. He knew his old man far too well to believe 
anything of that sort; he knew that Paul would 
313 


314 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


be deeply wounded — and with good reason — by an 
unexplained flight which would have all the appear- 
ance of having been prompted by sheer cowardice. 
It made him hot all over to recognise, as he was 
forced to do, that his flight, should it take place, 
would be at any rate partially due to that motive. 
Yet his father was right in pronouncing explanations 
out of the question. To proclaim one’s intention 
of quitting the visible scene is like flourishing a 
pistol and announcing that one is about to commit 
suicide. Such threats are neither seriously made 
nor seriously taken. No ; somebody must go to the 
wall; somebody must be scurvily treated. Lady 
Freda sank into comparative insignificance ; it would 
not take Lady Freda long to forget that she had 
once had a fancy for a young fellow who, after making 
a brilliant start in the race of life, had abruptly bolted 
off the course. The protagonists in the struggle 
— silent, passive protagonists who left the issue to 
a distraught third person — were these two men : on 
the one side the generous benefactor, the staunch 
and intimate friend of so many years; on the other 
the amiable, unprincipled, frivolous father who had 
nothing to say for himself (and did not even say that) 
save that he was an old man, disgraced and alone. 
The plea gained rather than lost force by its palpable 
inadequacy. Just because he had every excuse for 
casting his father off Guy felt that it would be 
peculiarly base to do so. Thus the hapless young 
man turned and turned, getting no nearer to an exit 
from the labyrinth into which, through no fault of 
his own, he had been led. 


THE SOLUTION 


315 


He got into bed, blew out the candle and traversed 
the same oft-trodden ground over and over again, 
with the result that it did ultimately sink away from 
him, leaving him to the company of shadowy 
personages who conducted themselves after the 
most grotesque fashion — ^Mr. Hilliar, Mrs. Baldwin, 
Paul, Audrey and Lady Freda flitting, one after the 
other, through the forests of El Chaco and all calling 
aloud upon a strayed explorer who lay, powerless and 
speechless, hard by. In other words, Guy fell into a 
feverish sleep ; although he was afterwards ready to 
affirm that he had not closed an eye all night. He 
remembered clearly enough, at all events, to have 
heard a clock in the neighbourhood strike five. 

It was almost immediately after this that some- 
thing occurred which he will assuredly never forget 
to the last day of his life. A horrible, universal 
uproar, distant at first, then swelling and approaching 
at terrific speed — suggestive on the instant of a hurri- 
cane. Instinctively he sprang up, felt for matches, 
struck a light — and was at once flung flat upon 
his face. Some gigantic force shook the building 
furiously to and fro, as a terrier shakes a rat ; there 
was a thunder and crash of crumbling walls, a tinkle 
of shattered glass, shrill human cries; then, after a 
flash of vivid realisation, came darkness and oblivion. 
Such was all the account that Guy could give later 
of the great earthquake which he survived. He had 
no recollection of having fallen with the falling house 
or of having tried to escape; he could only suppose 
that he must have made such an attempt because, 
when he recovered his senses, he was clutching his 


816 PAUL’S PARAGON 

watch and a roll of Italian bank-notes in one 
hand. 

Consciousness returned to him by slow degrees. 
He was in the dark ; he thought he was rather badly 
hurt; his head was aching and swimming, his left 
arm numb, his legs pinned down by some heavy 
weight. . . . What had happened ? Soon it came 
to him that he was in Messina, that the hotel had 
been destroyed by an earthquake and that he was 
lying buried beneath the ruins. He was also aware 
that he was parched with thirst, that his mouth was 
full of dust and that if he did not succeed in extricating 
himself ere long, he would be suffocated. He could 
raise the upper part of his body, he found — no doubt 
some vaulted masonry or arrested girder had pro- 
tected him — but as soon as he essayed to free his legs 
an avalanche of dislodged debris warned him that 
every movement was fraught with danger. He lay 
still for a while, collecting his wits, and then it was 
that he felt the watch and the notes in his right hand. 
Then, too, he made the encouraging discovery that a 
chink of daylight had been opened up above him by 
the subsidence of wreckage which he had started. Not 
unattainable, that chink of daylight, if only he could 
manage to release his lower limbs ! For this, however, 
he had to recognise that he had not strength enough. 
He could stir them a little, and he did not think that 
any of his bones were broken, unless his left arm was ; 
but he was in a good deal of vague pain, blood was 
trickling down into his eyes, and he feared lest by 
fainting away he might lose what small chance he 
had of being rescued. 


THE SOLUTION 


317 

Of rescuers there was no indication. Absolute 
silence reigned, save that from time to time there was 
a dull concussion, caused possibly by the collapse of 
undermined edifices far away. Had everybody but 
himself been killed, then ? In subsequently narrating 
his experiences, Guy declared that he would much 
rather die than again pass through the half-hour, or 
hour, or whatever the length of time may have been, 
that followed. Every interminable minute of it 
deepened his conviction that he was doomed to perish 
by inches, to perish of hunger and thirst, most likely, 
and to suffer torments before release came. It was 
like a hideous nightmare, and what added to the 
similitude was that when he attempted to raise his 
voice in a shout for help, only the feeblest cracked 
wail came forth. He repeated it, nevertheless, every 
now and again — more because it seemed to be forced 
from him than because he had any hope of its reaching 
human ears — ^and at last the inexpressibly welcome 
sound of human steps and voices fell upon his own. 
Nearer and nearer it came until the trampling ceased 
close above him and somebody said, in English : 

“ Right here ’twas — a child’s cry like. Stand by 
to heave these stones o’ one side and we’ll know 
more about it.” 

“ Hullo there ! ” gasped Guy; “ get me out of this 
if you can ! ” 

“Right oh, mate!” responded a cheerful voice; 
“ we’ll have you out in five minutes.” 

It took them much longer than that to disinter 
him; but he understood that they were obliged to 
work with gi’eat precaution, and their frequent 


318 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


exhortations to patience were not needed. Picks 
and crowbars were plied, the space of light grew 
larger and larger, the workers themselves — sea- 
faring men in their shirt-sleeves — became visible. 
One after another they stepped down into the cellar 
(for such it was) where the injured man lay, cleared 
the rubbish from his feet and legs and, passing their 
arms under him, lifted him up into a scene of deso- 
lation which at that first moment was as a garden of 
the gods in his sight. 

The ribbon on one of the men’s caps, which bore 
the inscription S. S. Pelican, caught his eye, and he 
learned, on inquiry, that it was the Cleland liner of 
that name, homeward bound from Bombay, which 
had reached the Straits just before the catastrophe ; 
so a cheer was raised when he made himself known. 
Some of the craft in the harbour had been driven 
ashore, he was told, by the huge waves which had 
accompanied the upheaval; but the Pelican had 
suffered no damage, and her crew had hastened to 
succour survivors. He would be carried on board 
at once and every care would be taken of him. But 
to this he demurred. 

“Never mind me,” said he; “I’m right enough. 
All I want is a drink of water, if you can get me one. 
Go on digging, like good fellows. My father was 
sleeping in a room near mine and he must be close 
by. I don’t stir from this until I know whether he 
is dead or alive.” 

The ship’s officer who was in command of the party 
remonstrated. “You may be sure we shall do our 
best, sir ; but you can’t stop here in the cold, knocked 


THE SOLUTION 319 

about as you are and with no clothes on you, so to 
speak. I’ve sent two men for a stretcher.” 

It was, Guy noticed, very cold. The air was 
darkened by a brooding cloud of dust, through 
which a chill drizzle was still falling, and the thin 
pyjamas that he wore were already wet through. 
However, he managed to stagger into a standing 
posture and, balancing himself unsteadily, repeated 
his injunctions. 

“ Dig away; don’t waste time. You’ve something 
more useful to do than to carry a stretcher.” 

Quiet orders, proceeding from an Englishman of the 
traditionally ruling class, are almost always obeyed 
by his fellow-countrymen, and Guy, despite some 
further expostulations, had his way. The men 
wrapped their coats about him; one of them pro- 
cured him some rain-water, which he swallowed at a 
gulp ; then, sinking down upon a heap of stones, (for 
in truth he was too sick and dizzy to stand,) he 
watched their resumed operations. Corpse after 
corpse was extricated and borne away past him while 
he sat there in the murky atmosphere; every now 
and then the ship’s officer, darting hither and thither, 
came to speak a word or two of encouragement or to 
press a few drops of brandy upon him. He witnessed 
some ghastly spectacles; but, what with exhaustion 
and nervous tension, he felt impervious to it all, 
conscious only of waiting for something that was 
coming and of the necessity of holding out that long. 
He was scarcely moved when at length the expected 
happened and he was assisted to walk to where, some 
yards away, the dead body of an elderly man with 


820 PAUL’S PARAGON 

a shattered skull had been deposited upon the 
ground. 

“ Yes, that is my father,” he said, and stared with a 
sort of dull curiosity at the placid features which had 
escaped disfigurement. 

“ Death must have been instantaneous, sir,” 
remarked the ship’s officer. 

“ I suppose so,” Guy assented. “ You’ll take care, 
of course, that he is given decent burial. He was a 
Roman Catholic ; you’ll have to let some priest know. 
I can’t — can’t see to things myself just now. My 
head’s rather queer.” . . . 

Then he lurched suddenly forward, was caught as 
he fell, and obtained release for a season from all 
physical and mental afflictions. 

In the old Eton and Oxford days Guy Hilliar’s 
luck had been a byword, and indeed, upon a review 
of his whole career, it would seem that Fortune 
maintained a kindly care for him and a pretty con- 
stant bias in his favour. To get your arm broken 
and your crown cracked in an earthquake may not 
be strictly good luck; but to emerge from such a 
visitation alive and to be tended by friends who 
chance to be the only people on the spot with comforts 
and luxuries at command is, in a manner of speaking, 
to fall upon your feet. That in one other respect an 
appalling tragedy had served the young man no ill 
turn was a view of the case which, happily, did not 
obtrude itself upon him then or thereafter. For 
many consecutive hours, in fact, he remained incapable 
of anything in the nature of connected thought. 
Alternating between delirium and coma, he knew 


THE SOLUTION 


321 


little more than that he was extended in a roomy 
eabin, that there ice-bags on his aching head, that 
dark figures, stooping over him, were doing things 
to his arm which gave him considerable pain, and that 
liquid nourishment which he did not at all want was 
administered to him at frequent intervals. Throb - 
bings and heavings told him at length that the vessel 
was under way, and he began to put questions to 
somebody who was seated beside him — a burly, 
rosy man, recognisable under scrutiny as the ship’s 
doctor. 

“ Can’t allow talking yet,” was the reply that he 
received. “You lie quiet, sir, and don’t worry; 
that’s all you’ve got to do. You’re aboard the steam- 
ship Pelican, and ...” 

“Oh, yes, I know,” interrupted Guy; “I re- 
member all that. My father was killed. I wanted 
to give instructions about his funeral, and I believe 
I did. Have they been carried out ? ” 

“ Everything has been done that you could have 
done yourself, Mr. Hilliar,” answered the doctor 
evasively. “ You’re safe out of the worst shake-up 
I’ve ever seen or heard of, and for the present the 
less you think about it the better. Your business is 
to get well, and I’m glad to tell you that there’s no 
reason why you shouldn’t.” 

“ Where are you taking me ? ” Guy inquired, after 
a pause. 

“ Well, we hope to get you landed and made com- 
fortable at Naples in the course of tomorrow. You 
won’t be yourself again tomorrow, though — nor the 
next day, nor the next week. I’ve set a simple frac- 

Y 


322 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


ture of the left arm for you; that’s nothing. But 
you have had a nasty knock on the head, and you’re 
suffering from nervous shock, as well as a good deal 
of fever. So you’ll have to take care of yourself. 
Or rather, we shall have to see that you’re taken care 
of at Naples. Now you know all about it, and I’m 
not going to let you speak another word.” 

A few hours later Guy awoke from sleep, somewhat 
refreshed, and found the grey-haired skipper con- 
templating him with a concerned face. 

“ Well, Captain Mason,” said he, (for he knew this 
old servant of the Company, having made a voyage 
with him some eighteen months before,) “ you didn’t 
think our next meeting would be like this, did 
you ? ” 

The other shook his head emphatically. “ That I 
didn’t ! But it’s a good job that we have met like 
this; for I doubt you wouldn’t have lived twenty- 
four hours if you’d been left at Messina, without a 
roof to cover you or a doctor to attend to you, same as 
thousands of others.” 

“ Thousands ? Was the whole town wrecked, 
then ? ” 

“ My dear sir, it’s wiped out ! God only knows 
how many perished, and maybe those that were killed 
outright weren’t the worst off.” 

He was more communicative than the doctor; he 
described some of the horrors that he had witnessed — 
the outbreak of fires amongst the ruins, the utter 
destitution of the half-naked survivors, exposed to 
bitter cold and an unceasing, pitiless rain, the im- 
possibility of finding food for them, the lack of medical 


THE SOLUTION 


328 


aid. Some Russian and English men-of-war had 
landed relief parties who were doing their utmost; 
but to cope with a disaster of that magnitude they 
would have had to multiply themselves and their 
resources by ten. Guy listened, scarcely taking it all 
in, vaguely ashamed of the contrast between those 
wretched people’s lot and his own. 

“ I say ! ” he exclaimed presently, “ isn’t this your 
cabin ? It’s awfully good of you ! ” 

“ Bless your soul ! ” returned the Captain, “ 1 
haven’t any use for a cabin. Haven’t had my 
clothes off since Sunday night, and this is Thursday. 
We’re full up with fugitives — lying about the decks 
and all over the place, and barely half rations to give 
the poor devils ! Best thing we could do for them 
was to take them off to Naples; else we should 
have stopped on at Messina and borne a hand a 
bit longer.” 

Captain Mason was now called away, and did not 
reappear during the remainder of the short passage. 
Both he and the doctor had their hands full, and the 
disembarking of a forlorn, somewhat unruly crowd, 
when Naples had been reached, kept them busy for 
several hours. Not until that operation had been 
completed was Guy removed, under the doctor’s 
supervision, to an hotel where a room had been 
prepared for him, where a nurse was already in attend- 
ance, and where he was informed that news of his safe 
arrival had been telegraphed to England. He tried 
to express thanks, but could not manage to say much 
or to keep his mind from wandering after he had 
spoken a few sentences. His final impression before 

Y 2 


324 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


relapsing into complete unconsciousness, was that, 
in spite of the rally which he had seemed to make, he 
was going to die. 

“ Worse before he’s better, I shouldn’t wonder,” he 
overheard the doctor say. “ A constitution like his 
ought to pull him through, though.” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


WATTIE TAKES CHARGE 

“ Well, all I have to say about it is that I give 
Audrey up,” concluded the flushed and annoyed 
Mrs. Baldwin, who had been saying a great deal 
more than that about it by the space of a quarter of 
an hour. “ I don’t understand her, and I never did. 
You, I believe, are under the impression that you 
do ; so perhaps you can give some explanation of this 
last extraordinary proceeding of hers.” 

It might have lain within the compass of Paul’s 
ingenuity to hazard one; but whether, if he did so, 
it would prove as welcome to his friend as the news 
which she had called in Chester Square to impart 
had been to him seemed doubtful; so his answer 
was ; 

“ I should be inclined to accept her own if I were 
you. She tells you that she has changed her 
mind, and it’s evident that she has.” 

“ But that explains nothing,” Mrs. Baldwin pro- 
tested. “ If there’s a girl in this world who knows 
her own mind it’s Audrey, and to tell me that she 
has changed it without any reason, after I had 
actually ordered the invitation cards for the wedding, 
is a little too absurd ! Naturally, one’s first idea 
was that there must have been a quarrel; but not 
326 


326 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


a bit of it ! Just as good friends as if they had 
never thought of being anything more, and as if 
they hadn’t received van-loads of presents which 
will now have to be sent back ! ” 

“ The young man is resigned, then ? ” 

“ It seems so. Rather poor-spirited of him, I 
can’t help thinking; but he isn’t, you know . . 

“ I know, because you have so often told me, 
that he isn’t the son-in-law whom you would have 
selected.” 

“ That’s another matter. I don’t see why you 
and Audrey should remind me of that as if it deprived 
me of any right to complain. I didn’t pretend to 
like the match; but I gave my consent, and every- 
body was told, and the trousseau was bought, and 
all. Now I am coolly informed that the engagement 
is at an end ! It isn’t only, nor principally, on my 
own account that I am so put out. You’ll think 
me coarse and vulgar for saying so, I’ve no doubt, 
but it’s true all the same, that girls who behave in 
such a way damage themselves and compromise 
their prospects.” 

As a general rule, they probably do; but the 
actual case, Paul hoped, was going to turn out an 
exception. Of course he could not dissociate Audrey’s 
action from his recent talk with her, little though 
she had appeared to be moved by the revelation 
which he had so indiscreetly made. He blessed 
his indiscretion, he foresaw a sufficient set-off to 
the shock of Mr. Hilliar’s ignominious egress and 
he inwardly rejoiced, saying to himself that it now 
only remained for Guy to turn up on Christmas Eve 


WATTIE TAKES CHARGE 827 


and for the little drama to conclude with seasonable 
merriment. 

But although he was duly bidden to dinner in 
Cromwell Road on Christmas Day, he could take with 
him no tidings of Guy’s advent; nor indeed was he 
asked for any. Audrey, quite composed and at her 
ease, vouchsafed neither queries nor confidences, 
devoting herself cheerfully to the entertainment of 
a rather large assemblage of relatives and friends, 
amongst whom Paul was a little surprised to notice 
Walter Cleland. 

“ Isn’t it almost indecent of them ! ” Mrs. Baldwin 
murmured in his ear. “ I took it for granted that 
he wouldn’t come; but Audrey said why shouldn’t 
he, when he had been invited ? I suppose he sees 
no reason why he shouldn’t. One tries to keep 
abreast of the times; but the rate at which people 
are moving now rubs it into me that I was born in 
the middle of good Queen Victoria’s reign. Would 
such a situation as this have been conceivable when 
you and I were young ? ” 

Paul, who was of opinion that human nature 
remains today precisely what it was in the earliest 
times, could only conclude that Walter Cleland was 
not proud — an inference which the behaviour of 
that truly heroic young man during and after dinner 
tended to confirm. Wattie was the salvation of a 
gathering menaced at the outset with flatness. The 
Baldwin collaterals, it was easy to see, were mystified 
and inclined to assume an attitude of reserved censure ; 
but he played tricks for them, sang songs to them, 
insisted successfully upon making them laugh, and 


328 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


reaped, let us hope, the reward of Audrey’s gratitude, 
which was doubtless more important to him than 
the appreciation of Paul Lequesne. 

The latter left early, alleging with truth that he 
had a fit of the shivers and believed he was in for 
a bad cold. He was in, as it proved, for something 
more troublesome than that, and the doctor, whom 
he was constrained to summon on the following day, 
packed him off to bed at once, remarking that 
influenza, complicated with bronchial symptoms, is 
not a malady to be trifled with. Thus it was that 
when news of the Calabrian disaster reached England, 
one reader of the newspapers was in no case to feel 
for others’ woes. Three days of influenza suffice 
for the quenching of all abstract interests and sym- 
pathies, and an added groan to those forced from 
him by his own aching limbs was as much as Paul 
could offer to remote sufferers. Guy’s telegram, 
which was delivered the same morning, did not alarm 
him ; for he failed to notice that it had been despatched 
from Messina and assumed that the voyager was 
already at or near Naples. The morrow brought 
fuller particulars, together with the report that there 
had been a few English victims ; but only on the last 
day of the year, by which time Paul had managed 
to crawl as far as an armchair, did the following 
paragraph meet his startled eye : 

“ It has now been ascertained that amongst the 
travellers staying at the Hotel Trinacria on the fatal 
night were two Englishmen, named Hilliar, father 
and son. The body of Mr. Hilliar the elder was 
found, a few hours after the catastrophe, by a search 


WATTIE TAKES CHARGE 329 


party from the steamer Pelican and identified by 
his son, who had himself received serious injuries. 
By a singular coincidence, young Mr. Hilliar is 
connected with the well-known firm of Cleland and 
Son, owners of the Pelican, to which vessel he was 
conveyed as soon as possible. Great credit is due 
to the master and crew for their untiring exertions 
in the cause of humanity. The Pelican, laden with 
refugees, has now sailed for Naples.” 

About a quarter of an hour later Miss Baldwin, 
calling to make inquiries in Chester Square, was 
met by Mrs. Williams, the agitated housekeeper, 
who exclaimed — 

“ Oh, Miss Audrey, thank goodness you’ve come ! 
Perhaps you can get him to listen to reason. You’ve 
heard about Mr. Guy, I suppose ? ” 

“Yes, I have seen the papers,” Audrey answered. 
“ Is Mr. Lequesne in a great state of mind ? ” 

“ My dear, he’s neither to hold nor to bind ! 
Says he must start for Naples tonight — and him not 
fit to stagger across the room yet ! ” 

“ Well, he can’t do that,” Audrey observed. 

“No, my dear, that he can’t; but try it he will, 
without somebody stops him. I’ve spoken real 
sharply to him ; but, bless you, he makes no more of 
me ‘ Serious injuries ’ ! — well, as I told him, 
there’s no dependence upon newspapers, and even if 
they are serious, we know what Mr. Guy is. Why, 
if that boy could be killed by getting himself knocked 
about, he’d have been dead a dozen times over long 
before now ! Tough ! — that never was no word for 
him ! ” 


330 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


But in spite of these brave utterances, Mrs. 
Williams had to have recourse to her pocket-hand- 
kerchief. “ I wish I could go to Naples myself,” 
she confessed, “ and that’s the truth ! May be I 
will later on ; for I expect they don’t know much about 
nursing in them outlandish places. What we’ve got 
to do now, though. Miss Audrey, is to make the best 
of a bad job. By hook or by crook, the master must 
be kept from rushing out into the cold air and catching 
his death.” 

It did not, under the circumstances, sound a very 
hard task; yet Audrey found it really more difficult 
than she had anticipated. Paul, like most men 
who have enjoyed good health all their lives, was 
accustomed to regard his body as an obedient servant, 
and was rendered both angry and incredulous by a 
display of mutiny in such a quarter. Having, more- 
over, taken it strongly into his head that Guy was 
dying, he was not to be deterred from going to him 
by representations that he himself would probably 
die of the mere attempt. Finally, therefore, it 
seemed best to let him give directions for packing 
and to stand aside while he stumbled down to his 
study in quest of money and a cheque-book. This 
method of treatment having resulted in the foreseen 
collapse, he was assisted upstairs again and was 
fain to own himself beaten. 

“ But we can’t sit here with our hands before 
us,” he plaintively urged. “ Something must be 
done ! ” 

“ Something has been done,” Audrey returned. 
“ I’ve been trying to tell you, only you wouldn’t 


WATTIE TAKES CHARGE 331 


listen, that Walter has telegraphed to Naples to say 
that rooms will be wanted at an hotel and that a 
nurse will have to be engaged. Most likely Guy 
will have no money ; so I suggested giving your name 
to the Consul, if necessary, and saying that you 
would be answerable for all expenses. Was that 
right ? ” 

“ You’re admirable, and I’m ashamed of myself,” 
said Paul contritely. “ Set down my ridiculous 
behaviour to bewilderment and physical debility, 
please. The whole thing has such a fantastic, 
improbable sound ! How came he to be with his 
father ? — and what could have taken either of them 
to Messina ? ” 

“ Well, he must have been on his way home by the 
Italian steamer which was due to touch at Messina 
about the 27th. His father may have known that 
and gone to meet him, or they may have met by 
mere chance. At least, that’s what Wattie thinks.” 

“Yes,” assented Paul reflectively; “that would 
have been it. And now the unfortunate man is 
dead. A good thing too, one would say, if — oh 
well, since you and I are alone, I will say it ! From 
the first it has been borne in upon me that Guy would 
stick to him, though there couldn’t have been the 
slightest use in sticking to him. What tricks Fate 
plays us ! If, after all, my poor boy is to follow 
him to the grave . . . .” 

“ Rubbish ! ” interrupted Audrey brusquely. “ Guy 
isn’t going to stick to him in such an exaggerated 
style as that. I daresay he isn’t even much hurt 
and won’t thank us for our offlciousness when he 


332 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


finds a nurse waiting to welcome him. I should 
never have ventured to bespeak the nurse, only I 
knew you would work yourself up into a panic and 
insist upon it.” 

Perhaps she had not all the confidence that she 
affected; but her unfailing common sense told her 
that the first thing to be done was to reassure Paul, 
and this by degrees she was enabled to accomplish. 
She remained in the house, though not in the sick- 
room, which she only visited at intervals, (having, 
it may be surmised, more reasons than one for for- 
bidding the invalid to talk,) and in the course of 
the afternoon Walter Cleland arrived, bringing a 
telegram from the Company’s agent at Naples which 
might fairly be pronounced satisfactory. Prepara- 
tions had been made for Guy’s reception. Captain 
Mason had reported that his life was not in danger, 
and the Pelican was due within eight or ten hours. 

“ Of course,” Wattie added, “ our people will 
take care that Guy has all he wants; but if there’s 
any message that you would like me to telegraph, 
Mr. Lequesne, I’ll send it off at once.” 

“ You’re very good and very helpful,” answered 
Paul gratefully ; for indeed he could not but recognise 
now that the young man was surprisingly both. 
“ Will you just explain, then, that I am on the 
shelf, but that I shall start for Naples the moment 
I am allowed.” 

“ I will if you wish it,” said Wattie; “ but do you 
think it would be quite wise to mention your illness ? 
You know yourself how apt one is to fret and worry 
when one is feeling bad, and he has had some hard 


WATTIE TAKES CHARGE 333 


knocks, apart from what he may have got in the 
earthquake, you see.” 

Paul acquiesced. He perceived, in fact, that he 
could not do better than acquiesce in all the sug- 
gestions of one who so evidently had his wits about 
him. If this particular suggestion turned out in 
the sequel to have been a rather unfortunate one, 
neither he nor anyone else could have divined that it 
would prove so. 

“ Wattie will see to that ” became a constant 
formula upon Audrey’s lips during the days that 
followed ; and Wattie always did see, quietly and 
expeditiously, to the various commissions with which 
he was charged. It was through him that Paul, 
who, much to his own surprise and chagrin, found 
himself too feeble to put pen to paper, was placed 
in communication with the Naples doctor; it was 
to him that the doctor’s replies were addressed, and 
it was he who exercised some discretion in making 
their import known. For in truth the first accounts 
from Naples were not as encouraging as they might 
have been, and it was admitted that the fever which 
had Guy in grip must run its course before he could 
be considered out of danger. Wattie and Audrey, 
who met in consultation daily, agreed as to suppress- 
ing what it could serve no good purpose to disclose. 
They agreed as to all matters; morning and evening 
they laid their heads together, apparently enjoying 
the process, while the sick man, as he made slow 
advance towards convalescence, watched their intimate 
relations with increasing wonder and curiosity. 

“ You’re the oddest pair, you two ! ” he felt 


334 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


impelled to say bluntly to the young man at length. 
“ One would think you had never . . 

“ Been engaged to be married ? ” asked Wattie, 
with a grin. “ Well, that’s just what we’re trying 
to think, and I must say we’re getting on quite 
nicely. I wouldn’t swear that she hasn’t almost 
forgotten it already.” 

“ And you ? ” 

“ Ah, I’ve a retentive memory — always had. I 
remember as well as possible, for instance, that when 
Guy and I were boys, I hadn’t a doubt about his 
having lost his heart to Audrey. Afterwards I 
began to think — and so did you, I expect — ^that he 
wasn’t the sort of fellow to lose his heart to anybody.” 

Paul nodded. “Yes; but we were mistaken.” 

“ Of course we were, and so it was that other 
mistakes were made. However, as I say, some of 
them are on the high road to being forgotten.” 

“ I suppose,” Paul resumed, after a moment of 
silence, “ I ought not to ask why she threw you 
over.” 

“ Frankly, Mr. Lequesne,” answered the young 
man, laughing, “ I don’t think you ought to ask me. 
Ask her, if you choose ; but I wouldn’t, if I were you. 
She isn’t exactly bound to tell you, is she ? Question 
for question, though, there’s one that I should rather 
like to put to you, and I don’t see that you can object 
to it, because I needn’t say that I know what is in 
your mind. Are you quite sure of Guy ? ” 

“Yes,” answered Paul, “ I believe I may say that 
I am. At any rate, he was sure of himself before he 
went away. Audrey tried to frighten me about 


WATTIE TAKES CHARGE 335 


Lady Freda Barran, but I daresay you will agree 
with me that that is an imaginary scare.” 

Wattie looked a little doubtful. “ Well, one hopes 
so,” he replied. “ The common talk is that she is 
doing her level best to marry Lord Dunridge, who 
certainly ought to marry her; only his people are 
holding him back and he’s inclined to jib — so I’m 
told. I expect she’ll carry her point; still it’s very 
possible that she may be keeping Guy up her sleeve 
as a second string. Not that it really matters, 
because you have only to say that you won’t allow 
it.” 

“You give Guy credit for being so docile as that ? ” 

“No; but I give the lady credit for knowing very 
well what she is about. Make it clear to her that if 
she marries Guy, she’ll have a husband whose face 
and brains are his only fortune, and you’ll have no 
further trouble with her.” 

“ She shall have some intimation, if necessary,” 
Paul promised. 

“ Very likely it won’t be necessary. You’ll soon 
be fit to start for Italy now, and a few words from 
you should make Guy proof against all the Lady 
Freda Barrans that ever were. At least, I hope so.” 

“ He will be rather astonished to hear that you 
hope so,” Paul could not help remarking. 

“ For a minute or two, perhaps, but much less 
astonished than he was to hear of my engagement. 
He’ll be as willing and anxious to dismiss that absurd 
episode from memory, you’ll see, as — other people.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


KILL OR CURE 

It was on one of those warm and gloriously sunny 
mornings which winter bestows upon southern 
Europe with a more lavish hand than early spring 
that Paul Lequesne disembarked at Naples, after a 
calm passage from Marseilles in a big North German 
Lloyd boat. He had left London in a sudden access 
of irritability, engendered by convalescence and by 
the discovery that those about him had been keeping 
him in the dark as to Guy’s condition. Not until 
danger was over had he been informed of how real 
the danger had been, and this necessary reticence 
he had rather unreasonably resented. Perhaps, 
too, he had begun to resent — or, at any rate, to be 
disquieted by — the lack of any message or letter 
addressed directly to him. He had, therefore, 
wrung an unwilling assent from his medical adviser 
and had set forth at a moment’s notice to find out 
for himself how matters stood. 

“ Oggi sta henissimo il signorino,^^ was the grati- 
fying reply of the Italian nurse who met him on his 
arrival at the high-perched hotel, and who went 
on chattering with a volubility which outstripped 
Paul’s knowledge of her language. He gathered, 
however, that his heralding telegram had been re- 
336 


KILL OR CURE 


387 


ceived, that he was expected and that he could 
at once see the patient, who was up and dressed. 
He was then conducted into the room where Guy — 
dressed indeed, but only “ up ” in the sense that he 
had been moved from his bed to a spfa — lay ex- 
tended beside the open window. The first sight of him 
was rather a shock; for he was white and wasted, 
his head was still wrapped in bandages and his eyes 
looked unnaturally large. 

“ My poor boy,” Paul exclaimed, “ what a time 
you must have had ! ” 

“ Baddish while it lasted,” Guy answered, smiling, 
“ but I’m getting on hand over fist now, as the doctor 
and the nurse will tell you. It wasn’t so much the 
hammering I got as a return of fever. I was down 
with it out in Argentina, and I suppose I hadn’t 
really shaken it off. Awfully good of you to come 
all this way to see me ! ” He added, after a moment, 
“You heard about my poor father’s death ? ” 

Paul signified assent. “ Yes, just the bare fact. 
I know nothing of what took him to Messina or how 
it was that you and he were together.” 

Guy’s explanation, though condensed, was free 
from any suppressions. He seemed anxious (as 
indeed it was neither unnatural nor blameworthy 
on his part to be) to make it clear that he was not 
ashamed of his father — or, at the least, that he 
accepted and associated himself with such shame 
as might attach to his father’s memory. 

“ I think, if he had lived, you wouldn’t have heard 
any more of me,” he confessed. “ I had pretty well 
made up my mind to go off with him to Brazil and 
z 


338 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


leave you to wonder or guess what had become of 
me. It sounds beastly shabby, I know, but I had 
to cut myself off finally from you or from him. There 
was no middle course for me that I could see.” 

Paul winced a little, but replied : “ I agree; there 
wasn’t any room for compromise. And from one 
point of view you might have been right in deciding 
for your father.” 

“ In spite of what he had done ? ” 

“ Or because of it. One is less entitled to forsake 
the fallen than the fortunate, perhaps. Of course, 
though, if you had consulted me, I should have done 
my utmost to prevent you from joining him.” 

“Yes, I know. Yet it would have been difficult 
for me — the son of an exposed forger and impostor — 
to take up life in England where I dropped it. Even 
now it won’t be over and above easy.” 

“ Good heavens ! do you think Mrs. Baldwin or 
any of us will breathe a word about bygones ? Not 
that you would be made to suffer if we did.” 

“ Oh, one suffers in such cases ; it’s inevitable. 
Roughly just, too, I daresay. My father was what 
I’ve just called him, and everybody has a right to 
say that he brought disgrace upon himself and me. 
Only I can’t, speaking personally, feel that he was 
a great criminal. I know he didn’t take that view 
of himself. He broke rules, and when one breaks 
rules one must pay forfeit; but if it comes to moral 
guilt — well, is any man morally guilty who can’t 
for the life of him see that he is ? ” 

Not even to please Guy could Paul give adherence 


KILL OR CURE 


339 


to so casuistic a theory as that. He took refuge 
ill generalities and in the admission that he, for his 
own part, had always liked a man whom no mortal 
was now called upon to judge. For this he was 
thanked; but Guy’s tone, though pleasant enough, 
had a hint of constraint which reacted upon the 
older man and which was not diminished by his 
repeating his remark of — 

“ It’s awfully good of you to have come out here.” 
“ I wish you wouldn’t talk like that ! ” exclaimed 
Paul. “ Don’t you think it would have been awfully 
bad of me if I hadn’t come ? Don’t you know that 
I should have come long before this if I hadn’t been 
rather awfully bad in a physical sense ? ” 

Guy turned his head and stared. “ Have you been 
seedy ? ” he asked. “ By Jove, yes ! I see now that 
you have. What was it ? ” 

“ Nothing more tragic than a sharp attack of 
influenza; but, such as it was, it effectually laid me 
by the heels, worse luck ! ” 

“ I wish they had told me ! ” murmured Guy 
regretfully. “ It never occurred to me that you 
could be ill. I’m sorry ! ” 

“ It was our fault that you were not told,” Paul 
said; “we were afraid — stupidly — of making you 
anxious. As if anything short of sheer incapacity 
to move would have kept me away from you ! And, 
not knowing that I was incapacitated, you must 
have thought ...” 

“ Oh, I thought there were heaps of things that 
might have detained you at home,” interrupted 


340 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


Guy hurriedly. “ Audrey’s wedding, for one. Has 
that come off yet ? ” 

“ No,” answered Paul, “ it hasn’t, and I am glad 
to tell you that it never will. Audrey has broken 
off her engagement.” 

The effect of this announcement was distinctly 
disappointing. Guy merely raised his eyebrows 
and remarked : “ I’m not much surprised. Wattie 
is as good a little chap as ever stepped, but I couldn’t 
believe that she quite knew what she was about 
when she promised to marry him. She’ll know better 
next time, perhaps.” 

“ I hope she will,” returned Paul, laughing a little; 
“ I think she will. Come, Guy, don’t pretend that 
this isn’t good news to you ! ” 

But no responsive smile illumined Guy’s pale 
face. “ It doesn’t particularly concern me,” said 
he. “ You remember what I told you before I 
went away; I shouldn’t have had a look in, Wattie 
or no Wattie. If I’m glad that she has given up 
the idea of marrying him, it isn’t because I dream 
of stepping into his shoes. Moreover — I had better 
tell you at once, though I’m afraid you won’t like 
it — I am going to marry somebody else.” 

Paul attached no more importance to that pro- 
claimed intention than he imagined it to deserve. 
“ I certainly shouldn’t like it if by ‘ somebody else ’ 
you mean Lady Freda Barran,” he acknowledged; 
“ but then I doubt whether you would like it either; 
so . . 

“ You needn’t doubt that,” interposed Guy. “ I 
don’t say that I am crazily in love with her; once is 


KILL OR CURE 


341 


enough for crazes But I am fond of her, and she 
has been very good and kind to me.” 

“ Has she really ? In what way has she displayed 
her goodness and kindness, I wonder ! ” 

“ By coming straight out from England, travelling 
day and night, the moment that she heard what had 
happened to me. What would have happened to 
me, but for her, I don’t know — most likely I should 
have gone under. The fact is that she found me in 
the most deplorable state of nervous breakdown and 
prostration that you can imagine. I knew instruc- 
tions had been sent by you that I was to want for 
nothing; what I didn’t know was that you were 
ill, and it seemed to me that your remaining at home 
and not even telling them to give me a message . . .” 

“ I did tell them to give you messages ! ” Paul 
broke in. 

“ They weren’t delivered, then. It seemed to me 
that that silence of yours spoke for itself. I had 
a horrible feeling of being despised and deserted. 
As far as I could see, she was the only one who cared 
enough for me to stick to me through thick and 
thin, and though I did you an injustice, old man, 
and I’m sorry for it, I still feel that nothing ought 
ever to make me turn my back upon her. And 
nothing ever will. I don’t know whether you under- 
stand.” 

Only too well did the dismayed Paul understand 
that he had been outgeneralled. Whatever else 
might be doubtful — and in the last few minutes 
some things of which he had been certain seemed 
to have become so — it stood out as a plain fact that 


842 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


Lady Freda could marry Guy if she wished. So 
completely was he at her mercy that discussion 
and deprecation would be mere waste of breath. 

“ Are you actually engaged to her ? ” was the only 
question that appeared to be worth asking. 

“ Not actually and formally,” answered Guy, 
with a smile; “she isn’t the sort of person to — to 
bother about formalities.” 

“ She isn’t indeed ! ” 

“ No ; but it’s implied ; it’s — indispensable, in 
short. Of course I don’t expect you to be pleased. 
You think what most people think about her, and 
not without some reason, I admit. All the same, 
you’ll change your opinion when you know her 
better.” 

Not deeming this probable, Paul made no reply. 
“ She is still here, I suppose ? ” he asked presently. 

“ Oh, yes; she may come in at any moment.” 

She walked in at that very moment, a tall figure 
arrayed all in white, graceful, beautiful, (no disputing 
her grace and beauty, confound her !) and bearing 
a handful of fresh violets, which she thrust under 
Guy’s nose. 

“ Aren’t they delicious ! ” she cried. “ I bought 
them for you in the market. Do you know, you’re 
looking a lot better to-day. How do you do, Mr. 
Lequesne? Our poor earthquaked victim is well 
round the corner now, you see. I hope you haven’t 
been talking too much, though, Guy.” 

She stooped over her charge, patting and arranging 
his pillows, while the nurse, who had followed her 
into the room, struck an attitude of admiring, lack- 


KILL OR CURE 


343 


adaisical ecstasy for which Paul would dearly have 
loved to wring her neck. Obviously Lady Freda 
had taken command; obviously she was recognised 
and sympathised with as the sick man’s affianced 
bride ; obviously she meant to carry through the 
part ascribed to her. “ Not until she has fought 
and beaten me, though ! ” resolved the grim, silent 
antagonist whom she did not even deign to treat 
as a possible antagonist. She ignored him while 
she moved slowly about the room, examining medicine 
bottles and giving directions in Italian to the obse- 
quious nurse; it was only when the shrill striking 
of a clock on the mantelpiece drew her attention 
to the hour that she appeared to recollect his presence. 

“ Have you had your dejeuner yet, Mr. Lequesne ? ” 
she asked pleasantly. “ No ? Then you had better 
come and have it with me. Guy generally takes 
a siesta at this time of day.” 

Shortly afterwards Paul was partaking of red 
mullet at a round table, gay with flowers, in Lady 
Freda’s adjacent sitting-room and was replying in 
gruff monosyllables to the remarks which his gracious, 
if somewhat absent-minded, entertainer was pleased 
to address to him from time to time. Naturally, 
she was not embarrassed; nobody had ever seen 
Lady Freda embarrassed; yet even she might be 
feeling a trifle anxious or apprehensive, he hoped. 
But he had to possess his soul in patience until the 
attendants — smirking attendants who doubtless, like 
the nurse, saw in this fair English lady a ministering 
angel — were out of the room. Then, with great 
promptitude, he cleared decks for action. 


344 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


“ When something disagreeable has to be said,” 
he began, “ the best plan is to say it in as few words 
as possible. After what I have seen and heard this 
morning, I may dispense with preliminaries and 
come straight to the point, which is simply that I 
object. Guy Hilliar, it is true, is not bound to con- 
sult me, and he has not consulted me; nevertheless 
it may count for something with you that I am 
absolutely and unalterably opposed to your ever 
becoming his wife.” 

Lady Freda, with her elbow on the table and a 
white, shapely hand supporting her chin, gazed 
sleepily at this uncompromising foe and smiled. 

“ Yes ? ” said she. “ Why ? ” 

“ Must I give my reasons in detail ? I will, if you 
insist; but as I am sure you realise what they are, 
it should be sufficient to remind you that you have 
a past.” 

The above blunt summing up of her disqualifica- 
tions did not offend or disconcert Lady Freda, who 
rejoined : “I have been talked about, you mean. 
You are so little in the world that one would hardly 
have expected you to know that; but everybody 
seems to hear everything nowadays. Most of what 
they hear is quite untrue, of course; still I won’t 
defend myself; it really isn’t worth while. I grant 
you my past; you are welcome to make the most 
and the worst of it. Personally, I can’t see what 
anybody’s past signifies. I shouldn’t care a pin 
if Guy had the stormiest past on record ; I don’t care 
a pin about his father’s past, though I suppose your 
idea is that it ought to be visited upon him ...” 


KILL OR CURE 


845 


“ I beg your pardon,” interjected Paul, “ I have 
never had any such idea.” 

“Well, he thinks you have. But I was going to 
say that the past is one thing and the present is 
quite another. Supposing at this present moment 
Guy loves me and I love him ? ” 

“ Do you seriously ask me to believe that you 
love him ? ” 

Lady Freda opened her blue eyes in unfeigned 
surprise and amusement. “ What a funny old 
man you are ! ” she exclaimed. “ Why in the 
world shouldn’t I love him ? Because you suspect 
that he isn’t the first person whom I have honoured 
in that way ? But surely you can’t think that 
people only fall in love once in the course of their 
lives ! ” 

“ I think,” answered Paul, “ there are people 
who never arrive at falling in love even once, and 
it would not surprise me if you were one of them. 
I suppose I must take it that you have a fancy or 
caprice for Guy which you would call being in love 
with him; but I can state upon his own authority 
that he is not in love with you.” 

“ Oh, can you ? When did he tell you that ? ” 

“ He told me this morning.” 

“ Really ? ” said Lady Freda, with superb com- 
posure. 

But, noticing that a faint tinge of colour mounted 
into her cheeks, while her brows contracted ever 
so slightly, he pressed what he thought his advan- 
tage. “Yes, and I believe I may add that he does 
love another person.” 


346 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


It must be owned that Paul was not adroit. On 
the other hand, skilful strategy might not have 
availed him much with Lady Freda, who differed 
in some respects from the ordinary run of women. 

“Oh, Miss Baldwin?” said she. “Yes; one 
guessed that you destined him for Miss Baldwin. 
But isn’t she going to marry the little comic amateur ? ” 

“ No ; the project has fallen through. I was glad 
to be able to give Guy that piece of news this morning.” 

“ And did he say then that he loved her ? ” 

“Not this morning,” truth compelled Paul to 
acknowledge; “ but he did say so a few months ago, 
before he went to South America.” 

“ Ah, a few months ago ! Things have happened 
since then.” 

“ What has happened is that by establishing 
yourself here and taking him under your wing you 
have placed him in a rather compromising situation. 
I am sorry to have to speak so crudely ; but perhaps 
you won’t mind.” 

“Not in the least. As you say, we are a good 
deal compromised, he and I. Isn’t that more or 
less of a reason for your accepting what can’t be 
helped ? ” 

“ It remains to be seen what can be helped and 
what can’t. Rest assured that if I can by any 
possibility prevent a marriage which would have 
no chance of turning out happily, I shall prevent 
it. And I think I can. I don’t know what your 
income is . . 

“ I’m sure 1 don’t ! ” interpolated Lady Freda 
languidly. 


KILL OR CURE 


347 


“ But Guy, apart from what I allow him, has 
only what he may be earning. He is at liberty to 
marry; but I am also at liberty to refuse supplies 
while I live and to leave him nothing when I 
die.” 

Lady Freda sipped her coffee and laughed. “ Do 
you know, Mr. Lequesne,” said she, with much de- 
liberation, “ I don’t call that such a blood-curdling 
threat. There might be something in it if you 
were sincere; but of course you aren’t. Of course 
you would punish yourself quite as much as Guy 
if you were to make a pauper of him.” 

Nothing, unfortunately, could be more obvious. 
The weak spot in Paul’s armament, offensive and 
defensive, was precisely that, should the worst come 
to the worst, he would not only act with gross injustice 
by casting off his adopted son but would deprive 
his own remaining years of all joy and all purpose. 
It looked as if her ladyship had him on the hip. 
Nevertheless, Guy had to be saved — and Audrey 
too ! He felt very much as a surgeon may feel who 
in the midst of an operation finds himself compelled 
to make up his mind instantly whether he will take 
a big risk or not. A barely perceptible alteration 
that came over Lady Freda’s features during the 
few seconds while she was waiting for him to speak 
helped to give him courage. He divined that if 
she could but be made to believe him, she would 
draw back, and he saw that the only way of command- 
ing belief would be to tell the truth. In other words, 
he must either discard menaces or proclaim in deadly 
earnest a determination which he might have cause 


348 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


to rue to the end of his days. He decided as most 
surgeons in an analogous predicament would have 
done and chose the bolder course. 

“ I have no wish to punish anybody,” said he ; 
“ but you are very much mistaken if you fancy 
that I shall shrink from punishing myself. Whether 
I am right or wrong about it, Guy Hilliar will never 
marry you with my consent. And to show you 
that what I have said just now was said with sincerity, 
I solemnly swear that if he does marry you, I will 
neither give nor leave him another shilling.” 

He felt himself turn white and his heart thumped 
against his ribs; for he realised intensely to what 
a calamitous fiasco he was exposed. He saw, how- 
ever, that Lady Freda was impressed — convinced. 
That was something; butjmore than that she did 
not allow him to see. With perfect calmness and 
an indolently wondering air, she remarked : 

“ How you must hate me ! ” 

“ No,” he answered, almost enjoying the rare 
luxury, which had become a necessity, of stating 
facts in their inherent, unclothed veracity ; “ my 
feeling about you as a human being is one of absolute 
indifference. But I should hate more than anything 
else that I can conceive to see you married to 
Guy.” 

“So it appears. Have you told him that he will 
be cut off without even the traditional shilling if 
he marries me ? ” 

“ Not yet; but I shall.” 

“ I suppose you will. Rather unwise of you, I 


KILL OR CURE 


349 


should say ; but I have noticed that people who pass 
for being out-of-the-way wise are often quite curiously 
dense about things which every schoolgirl knows. 
After all, you have only to imagine yourself in his 
place. Would you stand being bullied ? ” 

“I shall not attempt to bully him; I haven’t 
attempted to bully you. I have only attempted to 
give you pause by pointing out the inevitable con- 
sequences of a certain action.” 

“ Oh, I’m pausing,” said Lady Freda, with a laugh; 
“ it may interest you to hear that I’ve been pausing 
all the time. He hasn’t, though, and it’s as certain 
as you sit there that you can’t make him. His 
future, in short, rests with me.” 

“ Well, then ? ” 

“ Well, then, I’m in no hurry. As soon as I have 
decided you shall be told ; but I wouldn’t be over 
sanguine if I were you. Worse women than I — and, 
if that mattered, I’m not half such a bad woman 
as you are pleased to think — have chosen love and 
thought the world well lost. But you’re too dry 
an old stick, saving your presence, to know what 
women are made of.” 

Lady Freda yawned, rose slowly and, after standing 
for a moment at the open window, which commanded 
a far-stretching panorama of sunlit coast and sea, 
added, “ I’m going out for a walk now. Au plaisir ! ” 

Paul withdrew, in painful doubt as to whether 
he had made the blunder of his life or not. He did, 
as it happened, know enough of women to be aware 
that nothing can ever be predicated with safety 


350 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


respecting them; also he knew that if this particular 
woman had a distinctive quality, it was recklessness. 
He had, he felt tolerably sure, surprised her and 
caused her to recoil a few paces; it by no means 
followed that he had defeated her. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


PRISCA VENUS 

Lady Freda went to her bedroom, summoned her 
maid and hesitated for some minutes between two 
hats of vast dimensions, one of which was over- 
shadowed by black ostrich feathers, while the other was 
chastely adorned with sprays of white lilac. Having 
finally decided in favour of floral decoration — 

“ Pinner,” she asked, “ has Lord Dunridge called 
yet ? ” 

“Not that I know of, my lady,” answered the 
maid. “ I suppose, if his lordship comes and wants 
to see me, I’m to say the same as I did yesterday and 
the day before ? — ‘ Not at home to anybody.’ ” 

“ Well, as a matter of fact, I shall be out all the 
afternoon. Was he very angry yesterday ? ” 

Pinner, a demure, sharp-eyed little person, who was 
in all her mistress’s secrets (so far as Lady Freda could 
be said to have any), made a shocked gesture. 

“ Oh, my lady, such language ! I was obliged to 
tell his lordship that I wasn’t accustomed to be spoken 
to like that.” 

“ So then he tipped you, no doubt,” observed Lady 
Freda, studying the back view of her costume in a 
long mirror, with the help of a hand-glass. 

The maid simpered. “ Really, my lady,” she went 
351 


352 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


on, “ I don’t hardly know what to do with his lord- 
ship, he’s that violent. ‘ I’m not going to be turned 
away from this door again,’ he says. ‘ All very fine 
her refusing to receive me, but she’s jolly well got 
to receive me, and you can tell her so from me,’ he 
says.” 

“ Yes ; you delivered that message last night, I 
remember,” said Lady Freda. “ Give me my gloves 
and the big white sunshade. It’s just possible that 
I may not come in to dinner this evening. If I decide 
to dine out, somebody shall let you know.” 

“ Very good, my lady. Any message for Mr. 
Hilliar ? ” 

Lady Freda deliberated a moment. “ My love,” 
she answered, “ and I won’t tire him any more today, 
now that Mr. Lequesne is here to talk to him.” 

She swept down the staircase and crossed the 
entrance-hall, nodding right and left in acknowledg- 
ment of the obsequious salutations which greeted her 
passage. A legend obtained in the establishment 
to the effect that her ladyship was as wealthy as she 
was beautiful. Out of doors the sun was shining from 
a cloudless sky and the air was warm and still, as on an 
English summer day. Beyond and beneath a fore- 
ground of aloes, flowering shrubs and stone pines lay 
the white city of Naples, the wide sweep of the azure 
bay, Vesuvius, topped by a thin, hovering plume of 
smoke, violet Capri in the far distance. With very 
slow steps Lady Freda descended the eminence upon 
which the hotel was situated, her eyes, as usual, half 
closed and the flicker of a smile upon her lips. Scenery 
did not say much to her ; but she was vaguely soothed 


PRISCA VENUS 


353 


by the charming environment and fully aware that she 
herself was looking her best, a knowledge which to 
no member of her sex can ever be other than 
soothing. 

She had not progressed far on her downward way 
when there hove in sight the figure of a shortish man, 
wearing a blue serge jacket, white trousers and a 
yachting cap. His eyes were bent upon the ground, 
his lower jaw was thrust forward and he was pounding 
up the hill with the gait of one who has a set purpose 
in mind. Lady Freda’s smile, as she watched his 
approach, became a shade accentuated. It is highly 
probable that an on-looker, cognizant of her situation 
and of the interview which she had recently brought 
to a close, would have pronounced that smile of hers 
enigmatic; but in truth she was the least enigmatic 
of mortals, and if she was now looking faintly amused, 
when she might have been expected to look appre- 
hensive or dubious, it was for the quite simple reason 
that faint amusement was what she felt, while appre- 
hension and perplexity were emotions foreign to her 
nature. The advancing pedestrian was nearly abreast 
of her before he looked up, stopped dead and called 
out, with scant ceremony or civility, “ Hullo ! ” 

“ Hullo ! ” returned her ladyship affably. “ On 
your way to leave another card for me ? Warm 
work, isn’t it, walking the pace you do ? ” 

“ Look here, Freda,” said Lord Dunridge roughly, 
“ I’ve had enough of this nonsense. I didn’t mean to 
leave a card for you ; I meant seeing you, whether you 
liked it or not.” 

“ Always delighted to see you when I can. Dun,” 

A A 


354 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


was Lady Freda’s calm rejoinder. “ I couldn’t have 
you admitted into the hotel, because you make such 
a noise when you’re angry.” 

“Might have disturbed your dear patient, eh?” 
Lord Dunridge suggested, with a savage grin. 

“ That was it. But he is out of earshot now ; so 
if you want to shout, shout away. I wish you 
wouldn’t, though; it only makes me wonder why I 
have stood being shouted at by you so long.” 

Lord Dunridge did not shout; but he remarked 
that, if it came to that, he himself had stood a lot, 
first and last. Somewhere or other, however, the line 
had to be drawn, and he was disposed to draw it at 
her bolting off post-haste to Italy and constituting 
herself the care-taker of a man who was no relation 
of hers nor even what you could call an intimate 
friend. He thought that was just about the limit. 

“ Did you have the Bernicia fitted out and give 
chase at once ? ” Lady Freda inquired, with an air 
of languid curiosity. 

“ The Bernicia was waiting for me at Cannes, as 
you know well enough,” returned Lord Dunridge 
sullenly. “ I joined her there and came on here the 
day before yesterday. Now I want you to tell me 
what this means.” 

“You don’t want much, do you ? You think 
yourself entitled to an explanation of all my pro- 
ceedings, perhaps ? ” 

“ Yes, Freda, that’s just what I do think. Now, 
then ! ” 

“ Although you don’t favour me with any explana- 
tion of your own. What was the meaning of this 


PRISCA VENUS 


355 


proposed Mediterranean cruise of yours, I wonder ? 
Or rather, I don’t wonder, because of course I know. 
It was to be rather a long cruise, and it was to be the 
outward and visible sign that you were a free agent. 
Free, I mean, except for your not daring to disobey 
your mother’s orders.” 

Lord Dunridge pushed his cap to the back of his 
head and rubbed his brow. 

“ It’s easy to sneer,” he grumbled. “ Wait till you’ve 
had your people at you morning, noon and night, 
scolding, imploring, crying, going on about your duty 
to the family and God knows what else ! And with 
a strongish case, which wasn’t badly put, mind 
you.” 

“ I might wait some time before my people gave 
themselves so much trouble,” Lady Freda observed 
“ It’s true that I haven’t got a mother with the 
reputation of a saint and the temper of an old peahen. 
Tell me some of the compliments she paid me; I’m 
sure they must have been refined and forcible. Let’s 
sit down, shall we ? ” 

There was a bench, shaded by a wild olive tree, 
hard by. Lady Freda made for it, seated herself, 
patted it with her gloved hand, by way of invitation 
to her scowling companion, and resumed : 

“You were saying that your dear mother put her 
strong case well.” 

“ I said it was a strong case, and so it was,” returned 
Lord Dunridge doggedly. “ Seems to me that it’s 
a bit stronger now; but that’s what you’ve got to 
disprove, if you can.” 

“ Oh, no. Dun,” answered Lady Freda, with much 

A A 2 


356 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


suavity, “ I haven’t ‘ got to ’ prove or disprove any- 
thing. Play the game, please. Either we are free, 
you and I, or we aren’t. If you are at liberty to drop 
me gradually — which was what you meant to do, you 
know — my taking care of poor Guy Hilliar during his 
illness can’t be any business of yours.” 

“ Are you going to marry that fellow ? ” 

“ What if I am ? He is a dear fellow and awfully 
handsome, besides being a thorough gentleman in all 
his feelings, which is more than can be said for some 
people.” 

Lord Dunridge sprang to his feet. “ You’re the 
most heartless woman I ever met or ever heard of ! ” 
he cried. “ I don’t believe it’s in you to care a brass 
farthing for any human being but yourself. I like 
your talking about my dropping you, when you’re 
ready to chuck me for the first good-looking boy that 
happens to come along ! All right ! — I’m well rid 
of you, and I should have been rid of you long before 
now if I hadn’t allowed myself to be humbugged with 
my eyes open over and over again. But it’s a damned 
shame, for all that ! ” 

He stamped up and down, raving incoherently, 
vituperating and whimpering by turns — a pitiable 
and contemptible spectacle enough. But Lady Freda 
neither pitied nor despised him. She was habituated 
to his vapouring ways, which, if they sometimes bored 
her, never disgusted her. She was not, indeed, easily 
disgusted. She waited for the storm of words to 
exhaust itself, then tranquilly continued : 

“ Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. I 
can’t have you dictating to me, but I make no claim 


PRISCA VENUS 


357 


upon you. Go away, Gander Dun, and marry 
anybody you like.” 

Lord Dunridge caught her by the wrists and glared 
at her in mingled wrath and supplication. “ You 
know there’s only one woman on earth whom I shall 
ever marry ! ” he returned hoarsely. “ You know I 
can’t live without you ! More fool I, of course ! — 
let it go at that. Look here, Freda, I won’t let my 
mother or Hilliar or anybody else come between you 
and me. Be my wife, and I’ll swear you shall never 
repent of your bargain ! ” 

It was a bold promise and a bold offer. Not until 
now had he been bold enough to formulate that offer, 
nor upon this first utterance of it was he to be met 
half-way. Lady Freda metaphorically rolled him 
over in the dust and trampled him underfoot before 
she would admit that he had not forfeited all title to 
be forgiven; but when he was very humble, very 
penitent, very abject, she shrugged her shoulders and 
yielded. Quamquam sidere pulchrior Ille est, tu levior 
cortice et improho Iracundior Hadrid, Tecum vivere 
amem. . . . Such, less classically worded, was the 
gist of her final avowal, which, it may be hoped, 
contained some germ of truth. It is probably true 
that Lord Dunridge had not been spurred to leaping 
point by means of a deliberately prepared stratagem ; 
it is fairly certain that he would not have been received 
by her that afternoon had she not been brought up 
against a stone wall in the morning. But Lady 
Freda’s was one of those perfectly simple natures 
which seldom fail to baffle the analyst. 

It was agreed that the marriage should take place 


358 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


in Rome as speedily and quietly as might be. A 
London wedding, with previous notice given and 
futile hostility provoked, was on every account to be 
deprecated. After a month or two Lord and Lady 
Dunridge would return to England, and there would be 
a general consensus of opinion that the proper thing 
had been done in the proper way. Not that Lady 
Freda had ever been, or ever would be, the slave of 
public opinion; only it was as well to avoid bother 
and fuss. She might have added that it was as well 
to cut the ground from beneath the feet of an incensed 
dowager. Upon the same principle of escaping need- 
less bother she announced her intention of leaving for 
Rome that same evening. 

“ I shan’t show here any more. Forgot to tell you, 
by the way, that old Lequesnemade his appearance this 
morning — as savage as you were just now and even 
more rude. I don’t care to meet him again. You go 
up to the hotel — will you ? — ask for Pinner and tell 
her to pack and meet me at the station at eight 
o’clock. You might pay my bill for me at the same 
time.” 

“ I don’t suppose I’ve got nearly enough money in 
my pocket,” Lord Dunridge objected. 

“ Write them a cheque, then. You had better see 
about my railway-tickets, too, and say I shall want a 
cou'pd reserved in the express. Now I’ll wander 
down to the yacht and wait till you come.” 

Still serenely smiling. Lady Freda descended the 
winding road towards the town until the driver of a 
little open hack-carriage flourished his whip at her, 
was beckoned to draw up and received instructions 


PRISCA VENUS 


359 


to take her to the harbour. There she hired a boat 
and was soon alongside of the Bernicia, a large steam- 
yacht in which she had made more than one cruise 
during the lifetime of Captain Barran, who, disliking 
the sea, had not accompanied her on those occasions. 
The bearded skipper advanced to the gangway, with 
his hand to his cap, and apologised for not having sent 
the motor-launch. 

“ I didn’t know your ladyship was expected,” he 
said. “ His lordship’s orders were that he was to be 
met between four and five o’clock.” 

“ Yes, I have just left his lordship ; he has 
gone to do some commissions for me,” Lady Freda 
explained. 

She chatted for a few minutes with the captain, 
who had the good manners of his class and who 
betrayed none of the curiosity which he must have 
felt. Then she betook herself to the main cabin, sat 
down and began to write rapidly. With scarcely a 
pause between the sentences, she dashed off a letter 
which should have been, but apparently was not, 
somewhat difficult to compose. 

“ Dearest Guy,” she wrote, “ don’t think me a pig 
for clearing out of Naples without saying good-bye. 
You’ll pardon me, perhaps, when I confess that I 
simply couldn’t bear to bid you good-bye ! You 
know, dear, I’m very, very fond of you, and I’m sure 
I always shall be ; only, after the way in which your 
old Lequesne talked this morning, I began to see 
breakers ahead into which it would be a mistake for 
you and me to adventure ourselves. If there is a 


360 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


perfectly fatal thing to do (I ought to know that, if 
anybody ought !) it’s marrying upon a small, un- 
certain income. You wouldn’t have liked it any more 
than I should, and the end would have been that we 
should both have got bored and cross, even if we 
hadn’t vulgarly quarrelled. Mr. Lequesne will chuckle 
and think he has scared me off ; but it isn’t altogether 
that. I never promised to marry you, as you know, 
and perhaps Dunridge would say that I wasn’t free 
to promise — which is more or less true. I may as 
well tell you at once that I am going to marry Dun- 
ridge, who is here in his yacht and a towering rage. 
I mean he was in a rage until I appeased him by 
striking my colours. The poor fellow has been 
devoted to me for ages, and though I don’t pretend 
to adore him, I daresay we shall get on well enough. 
I think you are going to marry Miss Baldwin, who has 
thrown over the little comic man for the sake of your 
beaux yeux — so Mr. Lequesne gives me to understand. 
Of course she has been cracked about you all the time, 
and you will soon believe, if you don’t believe it 
already, that your heart has been true to her from 
childhood’s hour. Besides, you will have to obey 
orders. Rather an arbitrary person, that deputy 
father of yours. Means well, though, I should think. 
Tell him from me that I bear him no malice for his 
brutality (he really was too brutal for anything !) 
and that I rather admire his pluck. If I had cared to 
put him in a hole this morning, I could have done it 
with very great ease. Why didn’t I, then ? he may 
ask. Ah ! . . . 

“ Well, dear Guy, I won’t say any more. Forgive 


PRISCA VENUS 


361 


me, but don’t quite forget me. And, as it’s for the 
last time. I’ll sign myself 

Your loving 

Freda.” 

While Lady Freda was reading over what she had 
written, something tickled her nose. She brushed it 
away, and it fell with a tap upon the paper. 

“ Oh, bother ! ” she muttered. 

Not that she grudged the visible tribute of a tear to 
renounced dreams; only she felt that that tell-tale 
blot accorded ill with what had been intended to 
convey an impression of deliberate flippancy. For 
the rest, her missive did not, on reperusal, entirely 
satisfy her; but she could not take the trouble to 
begin all over again, nor indeed was there time to do 
so. It was, at all events, explicit — as explicit as it 
had any need to be — and it had the additional merit 
of being unanswerable. She did not wish for an 
answer. So she folded up the sheets, of which her 
large handwriting had filled nearly three, pushed them 
into an envelope, which she addressed, and went on 
deck once more. 

“ Jarvis,” said she to the skipper, who drew near in 
response to her raised hand, “ I want this note sent. 
Is there anybody who can take it for me ? ” 

“ Well, the cook will be going ashore in a few 
minutes, my lady,” Jarvis answered. “ I daresay he 
could deliver it, if it isn’t too far off.” 

Lady Freda produced a ten-franc piece. “ It 
won’t be if he drives,” she said. “ Tell him to hire a 
shay. No particular hurry, only I should like the note 
to go now.” 


362 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


It had better go, she thought, before Lord Dunridge 
came on board. The great drawback to Dunridge ' 
was the facility with which his temper was upset, and 
she realised that, for the sake of her own peace and 
comfort, she would have to humour that temper of 
his more carefully in the future than she had done in 
the past. Other small drawbacks there were to 
balance against imposing revenues and a big social 
position ; but one cannot expect to get everything. 

“ There’s this to be said,” Lady Freda mused, 
summing matters up, “ that Dun will improve by 
keeping. The older he grows the less exacting he’ll 
be. Whereas my poor, dear Guy, with his strict 
notions and his pretty beliefs about women in general. 

. . . Well, if he’s lucky to be released from me, the 
luck isn’t all on his side, perhaps. And I do triumph ; 
everybody will have to own that I triumph ! There’s 
nothing to cry about.” 


CHAPTER XXX 


FULFILMENTS 

It is well to have acquired the philosophic habit of 
mind; but this, like every other mental condition, 
is very much at the mercy of the body wherein it 
dwells, and a philosopher with the aftermath of 
influenza in his system is no more exempt from nervous 
irritability than the average frail mortal. Paul, after 
his dismissal by Lady Freda, was not sorry to hear 
from the nurse that her patient had dropped asleep ; 
for in his actual state of suspense he felt scarcely 
capable of facing Guy. He left the hotel and wan- 
dered about restlessly for an hour or two, growing 
increasingly pessimistic as the leaden-footed minutes 
ticked themselves away. No doubt his desperate 
bid for mastery had produced an effect ; but how long 
was that effect likely to endure with so shallow and 
wanton a woman as Lady Freda Barran ? Left to 
herself, and judging of others by herself, as most of 
us do, would she not speedily revert to her conviction 
that he had not really meant what he had said ? 
Was it not only too possible that she would look upon 
“ solemnly swearing ” as nothing more than an 
emphatic method of making a statement ? In any 
event, she was not bound to come to a decision at 
363 


364 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


once; she could, and doubtless would, keep the 
apprehensive enemy on tenterhooks for many days 
yet. And he had burnt his ships. He knew it, if 
she did not, and there fell upon him that sense of 
impotence which is perhaps the most miserable of all 
human experiences. 

Well-nigh overwhelming, therefore, were the glad 
and astonishing tidings which were imparted to him 
on his return to the hotel. It was the nurse who, 
while he was dejectedly mounting the staircase, ran 
down to meet him and, with much volubility and 
gesticulation, made announcement of Lady Freda’s 
exit. The woman was excited, distressed and indig- 
nant. She made no secret of her belief that he was 
answerable for this abrupt ejectment of an angelic 
lady, and she wanted to know how he had found it in 
his heart to behave with such cruelty, not only to 
her, but to the poor, suffering signorino, who had not 
yet been informed of what had happened. She (the 
nurse) had not dared to tell him, nor would she now 
take the responsibility of inflicting upon him a blow 
which might easily bring about his death. Oh, these 
cold, hard English ! To drive his beloved one away 
from him just as he was beginning to regain strength 
— what an infamy ! 

As soon as he could make himself heard, Paul 
entered mild disclaimers. He had no power to order 
off angelic and beloved ladies, he had received no hint 
of an intention on the part of this one to take wing, 
he had still some difficulty in believing that she had 
done so. However, he did not think that the sig- 
norino would die of it if she had, and perhaps there 


FULFILMENTS 


365 


had been some not unnatural misconstruction of the 
situation. Might he beg for particulars ? 

The nurse, a little mollified, related as much as she 
had been able to gather from a maid whose knowledge 
of Italian was rudimentary. Without any doubt 
Lady Freda had departed. Orders had been given 
that her trunks were to be packed forthwith and that 
she was to be met at the station in time for the night 
express to Rome. Why she had walked out, as if for 
no other purpose than to take the air, and had then 
sent back the above startling instructions remained a 
mystery. The maid, it was true, had not appeared 
to be very much astonished ; but — cine vuole ? The 
maid was an Englishwoman, dull, taciturn, stupefied 
by habitual over-eating — without an idea in her head, 
except to do what she was told ! 

Paul thought she sounded like a useful sort of 
servant and expressed a wish to speak to her. How- 
ever, he got very little out of Miss Pinner when she 
suspended her packing operations for a minute and 
stepped into the corridor. She “ really couldn’t 
say ” whether or not Lady Freda had any special 
reason for leaving Naples ; her ladyship’s plans were 
often changed at short notice. She had been told 
that her ladyship would be out the whole afternoon 
and might not return to dinner; that was all she 
knew. “ Oh, and I was to say, with her ladyship’s 
love to Mr. Hilliar, that she wouldn’t disturb him 
again today, now that you are here, sir.” 

Of Lord Dunridge the discreet Pinner made no 
mention. It may be conjectured that recent develop- 
ments were neither obscure nor unwelcome to her, 


366 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


and if she opined that her mistress had achieved a 
clever victory rather than suffered a reverse, she was 
not likely to be alone in taking that view. A fugitive 
twinkle in her eye when she spoke of transmitting 
her mistress’s “ love ” to Mr. Hilliar did not escape 
Paul’s notice ; but he was in no mood to quarrel with 
impertinence or reticence, with anything or anybody. 

A few minutes later he was in Guy’s room and had 
blurted out the great news, happily confident that it 
would have no such tragic issue as had been appre- 
hended. Dismay, indeed, was not amongst the 
emotions exhibited in swift succession upon the 
invalid’s face. 

“ Good Lord ! what can you have been saying to 
her ! ” was Guy’s first articulate comment. 

“You may well ask ! ” Paul exclaimed, heaving 
a prodigious sigh. “ Whether I should have the 
courage, or the foolhardiness to risk such a throw a 
second time or not I’m sure I don’t know ; but I felt 
that it was neck or nothing, so I chanced it — and won. 
She didn’t let me suspect that I had won, though, and 
I have been suffering tortures ever since. I know now 
what purgatory is — not to mention paradise ! ” 

A queer vibration in Paul’s voice, even more than 
the unwonted vehemence of the language that he 
employed, surprised and touched his hearer, who 
murmured compunctiously, “ I didn’t think you 
cared so — so much as all that ! But you haven’t told 
me what you said.” 

“ Oh, the crudest, vulgarest thing ! I swore that 
if you married her, you would never touch another 
shilling of my money while I lived or after I died. 


FULFILMENTS 


867 


The point, you understand, was that I should have 
been as good as my word and that she knew it. I 
couldn’t have driven that thrust home unless I had 
been absolutely truthful and determined; so I leave 
you to imagine what my feelings were when all the 
answer I got was that she would think it over and 
make up her mind at her leisure.” 

Guy winced slightly. “ But, my dear old man, I 
wasn’t counting upon you to support me ! ” 

“ I am sure you weren’t, and I shouldn’t have used 
that argument with you. Not as an argument, at 
least; I might have had to announce it as a fact. 
But against her it looked like my only weapon — a 
sort of boomerang, which might have missed its mark 
and recoiled with pulverising force upon wretched me. 
Mercifully, it hasn’t ! ” 

“You think,” said Guy, after a moment of pensive 
silence, “that she wouldn’t face comparative indi- 
gence ? ” 

“ Well, that’s implied, isn’t it ? ” 

“ Not necessarily. She may have felt that she 
ought not to spoil my prospects.” 

“ A very proper and becoming sentiment too, if 
she were capable of it; but she isn’t,” returned Paul 
rather callously. “ Still, as her train doesn’t leave 
for some hours yet, you might send a note by her maid 
imploring her to return and share your bread and 
water. I have nothing to urge against safe tests and 
experiments.” 

“ This is the sort of pride that comes of trying 
unsafe ones with impunity,” remarked Guy, with a 
half-unwilling laugh. “No; you’re quite right ; she 


368 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


wouldn’t come back. Of course she wouldn’t. She’s 
not — well, there are various fine things that she’s not. 
All the same, I should be an ungrateful brute to forget 
what she is and what she has done for me. I was in 
deep waters, you see; I fancied myself forsaken by 
everybody that I cared for in the world, except her. 
I don’t want to be pathetic, but ...” 

“ She has my heartfelt gratitude,” interrupted 
Paul hastily; for he was conscious of having been 
himself upon the verge of pathos or bathos ; “I don’t 
know that I have ever felt more grateful to any 
human being in my life. Unless indeed it be your 
very sagacious young friend Walter Cleland, who put 
me up to the best way of dealing with her. Upon 
my honour, when I think of what you and I owe to 
young Cleland I find myself utterly disconsolate ! 
For there’s no visible way of paying our debt.” 

“ Oh, one is much obliged to him, of course,” said 
Guy, who could hardly be expected to appreciate his 
friend’s sagacity in the particular instance named; 
“ but, as a matter of fact, there wasn’t any need for 
him to fuss. Our agents here would have looked 
after me all right without telegraphic instructions. 
I’m at least as much indebted to Captain Mason of 
the Pelican as I am to Wattie.” 

“We won’t forget Captain Mason of the Pelican ; 
means of discharging our obligations in that quarter 
may be hit upon, I daresay. But you will be uncom- 
monly clever if you can suggest any means of reward- 
ing a man who cheerfully submits to be jilted for your 
sake.” 

“ Glad to hear that he’s cheerful and submissive ; 


FULFILMENTS 


869 


but if he has been jilted, it certainly hasn’t been for 
my sake. Please dismiss that notion from your mind, 
once for all. You’ll allow, perhaps, that I know 
Audrey Baldwin a little better than you do.” 

Paul shook his head. 

“ Nevertheless, old man, I do know her better, and 
you may take my word for it that she’ll always be 
delighted to do anything for me except the one thing 
that she can’t do.” 

“ Qui vivra verra. So long as you still want her to 
do that one thing, I’m content.” 

Guy made a grimace. “ It’s stupid, but it can’t 
be helped. I shall go on wanting her to do that — I 
was nearly saying till the end of my days, but perhaps 
I had better say till she marries some other fellow. 
The funny thing is that I never really thought I 
should much mind her engaging herself to some other 
fellow until she went and did it. Absurd as that may 
sound, it’s the truth.” 

“ I can believe it,” said Paul. “ Also I can tell 
you that she would have minded most emphatically 
your engaging yourself to Lady Freda Barran.” 

“ That’s a totally different thing. If she had had a 
brother, she wouldn’t have liked him to marry Lady 
Freda. Quite natural that she shouldn’t; although 
it seems to me that you and she are a bit prejudiced.” 

It was at this apposite juncture that Lady Freda’s 
note was delivered to Guy, who read it through slowly, 
raising his eyebrows once or twice, while his lips 
twitched themselves into a smile. 

“ Well, there she is for you ! ” he remarked, as he 
handed the sheets over to Paul. “ Boldly depicted 

B B 


370 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


by her own hand, with a fine economy of line. I don’t 
call a woman who writes like that a bad sort of woman, 
you know.” 

Perhaps it was her candour that appealed to him, 
or the palpable genuineness (so far as it went) of an 
affection which she had decided to jettison, or possibly 
the mute eloquence of that smudge upon the last 
page. At any rate, he much preferred her ladyship’s 
present epistolary style to the more impassioned one 
of the past. But Paul, reading a little between the 
lines, was less favourably impressed. It was very 
like a woman, he thought — though not like what he, 
for his part, would have called a good woman — to 
suggest that a match had been arranged for her 
correspondent to which he would have to accommo- 
date himself, and her insinuation that she had not been 
actuated by wholly selfish motives in giving up the 
game struck him as more dexterous than honest. 

“ I am sorry she thought me brutal,” said he; “I 
tried to be as polite as the case would allow.” 

“ Oh, I expect you were pretty brutal,” laughed 
Guy. “Never mind; she says she doesn’t bear 
malice, and I am sure she doesn’t. Admit that she 
is good-natured, if you can’t concede her any other 
merit. Somehow, it’s a tremendous relief to me that 
she’s going to marry Dunridge.” 

“ Poor devil ! ” 

“ No ; not so long as he behaves himself and gives 
her all the money she asks for. What she says about 
getting bored and cross, as the result of being hard up, 
is true enough, so far as she is concerned; that was 
her real quarrel with Barran, I suspect, though she 


FULFILMENTS 


371 


may not have known it. But the fact is that I’m no 
judge of women, and I don’t believe you’re much of 
an expert in that line either, old man. We can rub 
along together very well without them, thank good- 
ness ! ” 

His spirits had revived ; he began to chatter freely, 
as of yore; he seemed amply satisfied to have re- 
covered the old familiar friendship which so many 
things had combined to thwart. In the long palaver 
which ensued Audrey was but little discussed. As to 
her reason for having discarded Wattie Cl eland Guy 
remained obstinately incredulous, and Paul did not 
care to insist. After all, he himself could not affirm 
positively that he knew her reason, although he was 
comfortably convinced that he did. For the time 
being, it was enough, and more than enough, that a 
day which had begun with such menace of storm was 
ending in joy, safety and peace. 

Some three weeks later Paul Lequesne and Mrs. 
Baldwin were sitting on a sun-warmed bench in the 
Boboli gardens. They had reached Florence that 
morning, she coming from the north, he from the 
south, and this meeting of theirs, the outcome of 
much correspondence, was only the pretext for 
bringing about another meeting which Paul had been 
eager to secure with as little delay as might be. Some 
delay had been unavoidable, since neither he nor Guy 
had been in a condition for travelling straight through 
to England ; but such diplomacy as had been needed 
to persuade Mrs. Baldwin that her own health 
demanded a short visit to brighter climes had been 


372 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


exercised (chiefly by the ever serviceable Wattie 
Cleland), and she was now, like her companion, 
awaiting in subdued excitement what she declined 
to treat as a foregone conclusion. 

“ I answer for nothing, mind ! ” said she. “ Audrey 
must guess why she has been brought here, I suppose, 
but she is perfectly capable of making us all look 
supremely foolish.” 

“ If she had meant to do that,” observed Paul, 
smiling, “ she wouldn’t have let you bring her here, 
and she certainly wouldn’t have let us slip out of the 
hotel, leaving her and Guy to follow at their con- 
venience. I beg you to note that they haven’t 
followed in any headlong haste. Getting on for two 
hours, I make it, since we saw them last.” 

“ Ah, well ! ” said Mrs. Baldwin, heaving a con- 
tented sigh. And then — “ Don’t you think it’s rather 
good of me to join forces with you like this and to 
overlook — all that I’ve overlooked ? For you can’t 
call it a great match, and you can’t pretend that Guy 
has behaved particularly well.” 

“ My dear old friend,” answered Paul, “ I think 
you are very good indeed; but if you expect me to 
say that I don’t think any woman fortunate who gets 
Guy for her husband, I must disappoint you. More- 
over, you know that this is what you and I have been 
wishing for ever since they were children.” 

“Yes,” Mrs. Baldwin assented; “it will be 
satisfactory if it comes off — and in Florence, of all 
odd places ! A sort of revenge for me upon that 
wretched man who got us all into such trouble here 
eighteen years ago.” 


FULFILMENTS 


373 


“ He brought no trouble upon me,” Paul remarked. 
“ Quite the contrary. Suppose he hadn’t played 
those pranks ? Suppose he had done his duty, gone 
back to Arcachon and claimed his small boy ? I 
shudder when I think of what would never have 
happened if poor Jack Hilliar had been an ordinary, 
respectable citizen.” 

“ And yet you don’t believe in Providence ! ” 

Paul was avowing a modest reluctance to trace the 
finger of Providence in blessings conferred by such 
equivocal means when an old gentleman who was 
sauntering slowly by came to a pause, stood still, 
blinking, for a moment and then raised his white hat. 
It was the Duke of Branksome, bent, aged, shaky of 
gait and voice, but still chirpily debonnair. He was 
on his way from Rome, where he had been attending 
his daughter’s second nuptials, he said. 

“ An old attachment. ... I daresay you may have 
heard. Better, under all the circumstances, to get 
the ceremony over abroad in a quiet way. Pleased ? 
— oh, dear me, yes ! Only too glad to see her married 
to anybody who can afford to keep her ! ” 

His Grace chuckled ; he was always wont to speak 
of his domestic affairs with much openness and 
simplicity. He reminded Mrs. Baldwin that he had 
first had the privilege of making her acquaintance in 
the Tuscan capital. 

“ Seems only yesterday, and your appearance 
fosters the illusion, my dear lady,” he gallantly added. 
“ Remember our friend Vigors ? What a rascal, eh ? 
— what a clever rascal ! Hanged or shot long ago, I 
suppose.” 


374 


PAUL’S PARAGON 


Presently the good-natured old fellow shuffled on, 
thinking to himself that the aspect of stout, grey-haired 
Mrs. Baldwin was a terrible shatterer of illusions and 
that pretty women ought never to grow old. After 
a time his dimmed, but appreciative gaze fell upon 
a woman who was not only pretty and young, but 
whose charming face was transfigured and irradiated 
after a fashion which one cause alone can evoke. The 
cause by her side had the air of being not less serenely 
blissful than she. Hand in hand, they stepped past 
the old Duke, who recognised the pair and chuckled 
benevolently once more, but did not accost them. 
They had not even seen him ; perhaps they would not 
have seen anybody just then. 

“ It simply had to be,” Audrey was saying. “We 
both did our idiotic best to prevent it from ever 
coming to pass, didn’t we ? But it has come to pass 
in spite of us, and if only I hadn’t poor Wattie so 
horribly upon my conscience ! ” . . . 

“ He’s a little bit upon mine,” Guy owned. “ All 
the same, I don’t know that he’s so much to be pitied 
as if . . .” 

“ As if he had married me ? Thanks ! ” 

“ Well, you can’t deny that it would have been a 
catastrophe of the first magnitude if he had. And 
even supposing one poor chap has to go to the wall 
we’re pleasing at least two other people besides our- 
selves, remember.” 

Audrey broke out into a laugh. “ Oh, let’s be 
honest,” she cried, “ and confess that we’re too 
outrageously happy to care if the whole human race 
had to go to the wall ! ” 


FULFILMENTS 


375 


So they passed on in the sunshine between the 
clipped cypresses and were lost to sight — destined, it 
may be hoped, to such enduring happiness as awaits 
some lucky members of the human race after the 
transient outrageous phase has gone the way of all 
phases. 


THE END 


Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, 

BRUNSWICK STREET, STAMFORD STREET, S.E., 
AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK. 








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